Digging up the Bones
by Trisha
Summary: What if Spike had come back from Africa before the end of Willow's rampage? And what if his presence changed the outcome so completely in one terrible night, Buffy is still picking up debris a year later?
1. Default Chapter

Digging up the Bones

Chapter One

Spoilers: Through Grave

Disclaimer: This is just for fun and practice. None of the characters/concepts are mine.

Summary: What if Spike had come back to town, soul in hand, before the end of Willow's rampage?

Author's Note: Thanks to Sass and Emma for the beta work.   

            The graveyard grass squished under her feet, wet with rain that hadn't stopped falling all night. She tipped her head back as she walked, opening her mouth to take in the droplets, letting them run down her face to her neck without ducking. This was her time, her rain, her darkness. Her cemetery, come to that. Her town.

            Holding her stake with loose fingers, she made her way down the aisle of mausoleums, searching with all her senses for the vampires and other demons who might be bumping their way through the night. There was nothing but the sound of her feet on the grass, and her breathing, the sharp inhalations she took each time a shadow seemed slightly man-shaped. The knowledge that it couldn't be him, that he was where she'd put him, never made sense to her, not then. All she knew was that he would fill that shape, that man-shape, with no gaps or breaks. It was man-sized, and so was he.

            Because that's what he was now, a man. Still dead, yes, and still with a demon inside him somewhere, but there were no missing parts to him, not anymore. A soul with a side order of monster. But the soul wasn't who he was, no more than the monster had been. Complexities beyond such black and white words lay within him; she remembered the shadows they brought to his eyes, the way his words chased each other, the madness that hunching his shoulders. He was a man, complex and haunted, but a man. That was why he'd returned to town the year before. He had needed her to know him.

            When she reached the door to his crypt, she paused and stood beside it, letting her stake drop to the ground. With pale fingers, she traced the fissures in the old wood planks, her other hand still and hot on the coolness of the brass doorknob. Beneath her fingertips the wood seemed warm and alive. She leaned into it, rested her cheek against the spot where she sensed him the strongest and waited, trying to keep her breathing even, trying to keep herself from calling out for him. She wanted to. Everything inside of her yearned for him. If her bones could break free of her skin and go inside, she knew they would have. Being torn apart that way at the thought of his name felt familiar, which in itself was a comfort. 

She'd forced herself to stay away for weeks, had only been to this cemetery a half dozen times in the year he'd been trapped here. Going through life with him as her dirty little secret, her crazy lover locked magically away in his tomb, all alone… The pain of longing for him was a poor comfort, but it was all she had. _I'll take comfort where I can get it. _ Now with the wood of his home rough under her cheek, she closed her eyes and let herself feel fully the burn of the want she carried for him.

            "Buffy." The word spoken at her back was an illusion, she told herself, squeezing her eyes shut. Nothing more than a dream. But when it kept on talking, she dropped her hands away from him, took a calm, slow step back. _Away_. _From him. _"Buffy, come on now. Let's go home, okay?"

            "Dawn." The name felt heavy on her lips. She licked at them and turned to face the girl. "Hey."

            Dawn smiled, a hesitant smile, but she kept it on her face even as her eyes darted between Buffy and the crypt door. "All done patrolling?"  

The forced brightness in her sister's voice lashed out at Buffy. Tears stung her eyes, but she looked down at her feet, refusing to let them build. Watching her shoes, she took one step, then another, away from his crypt. Away from where he was kept. "Yeah," she said, matching her sister's tone. "Time to get home."

Taking Buffy's arm, Dawn hugged it to her side and quickened her pace, urging Buffy to keep up. _Away, away, away, _her quick strokes on Buffy's hand said, but her words were steady and normal. "Giles will worry if we're late. You know he likes to see us before bedtime. Such a dork, huh? Like he thinks I'm not in a stable family environment if he's not there with cocoa, tucking me into bed."

"He doesn't make you cocoa," Buffy said, letting herself be led away from the cemetery and up the street. _Away. She always pulls me away. _Hating herself for the words she spoke, so composed, as if she hadn't just left behind her once-lover in his tomb, she kept moving away, kept speaking, regardless of the way her bones seemed to shift and ache as the distance between them grew. "He likes to know we're safe, that's all. Giles is… he's kind. He cares."

"I know." Dawn squeezed her sister's arm. "Like you."

"Yeah,"  Buffy whispered. The fingers of her free hand flicked over the raised scars on her neck. Four sets of bite marks. One for the world, one for _her _world. One for the past, and one… one for _him._ "I'm kind. I care."

As they approached the yard, Dawn released Buffy. "Look," she said, pointing to the porch. "He's waiting for you."

"For us," Buffy corrected automatically. 

"No, for you. He's outside. That means he wants you alone. If he was inside, he'd want me too." Shrugging, Dawn's face opened into a true smile. She was happy here, living like this, Buffy realized. Happy, with her sister and a Watcher playing Mommy and Daddy, with the routine of school during the day and cocoa at bedtime. As if reading her sister's thoughts, Dawn nodded. "It's okay, Buffy. I like knowing he's out here taking care of you."

They left the sidewalk. Buffy paused in the grass to remove her sandals. She wanted to feel the wetness of the earth on her skin before going inside. Dawn skipped up the steps ahead of her, waving at Giles before shutting the door and leaving them in privacy. Pausing at the foot of the steps, Buffy looked up towards her Watcher, but could not meet his eyes.

"Hello Buffy," he said in his gentlest, most fatherly tone. "Come and sit, will you?"

She didn't want to. Her teeth gritted with the yearning to run back to the cemetery, but in the end she gave in to the warmth she saw in his eyes, as she'd done every night. Coming back late from patrol, reluctant even to sleep, she'd always found him waiting for her, beckoning her in to remains of the life she'd once lead. _He's kind. He cares. _"Hi Giles," she said at last, settling beside him on the porch swing and tossing her shoes to the ground. "You're up late."

"You were gone a long time. I couldn't keep Dawn from searching the town. You worried her." The mild reproof in his words made her tense, but she didn't speak. "Did you… well. You went to see him?"

"I went," she said. "I didn't see him. You know that wouldn't happen… I mean… it couldn't. You know that."

"Yes, I know." He patted her arm. "I'm glad you're all right."

They swung back and forth for a silent minute, both staring straight ahead into the yard. She never moved, but finally spoke. "Why do you always ask? I mean, since you know. I can't see him. No one can."

"I must ask, Buffy." His hand rested on her wrist, a weight to heavy for her to bear. Twitching just enough to make him pull back, she yawned, hoping he'd think she was too tired to talk. He went on despite her show of exhaustion. "Buffy. It's terribly difficult for you. We all realize that this… what you are going through… well, it is an extremely disturbing situation."

"For who?" Her words tasted bitter on her tongue. "For me? For you?"

"Of course, of course," Giles rushed to say. "For us all. You, you have to go on each day, patrolling, parenting Dawn, knowing what… what you know. And we have to watch you. It's…"

"What about him, Giles? What about Spike?"

"Ah- yes." His words thickened and slowed, lulling her until she felt the fight loosen inside her and relaxed. "For him too, Buffy. I'm sure. But it's impossible to say how much awareness Spike has left. It's most likely that he is utterly… gone."

_Empty. He's gone and empty. Like me. _She let her head drop to rest against Giles' shoulder, let her eyes fall closed as she pictured her insides, the hollow cavity of her torso, each long, vacant limb, and the void of her skull, bare and blank, filled by nothing except the meaningless words they asked her to speak and the secret language she kept from them, the language that was the memory of his voice, when he still had one in her life. _I'd do it. Right person. Person I loved. I'd do it. _

_But I can't do anything now for you, Spike. I have no voice. I have no body. All I am is… here, and it's nothing now. _The swing began to creak as Giles pushed with his feet, pacifying her with the motion, with his nearness and his certainty. "Giles? You really think…"

"Buffy, you mustn't worry. Everything that could be done for Spike, you did. You've nothing to feel remorse for. There's nothing that needs to be forgiven."

_To forgive is an act of compassion. It's not done because people deserve it. It's done because they need it. _She didn't realize she'd spoken the words aloud until his shoulder jerked beneath her face.

"You need to see him, don't you." It wasn't a question. His angled jaw stiffened and he pulled off his glasses. He worked them in his hands, polishing them as if thinking they could never be clean enough to for him to see her clearly. 

"I need…" Her words died out and she shrugged, once. "Him. I need… to know he's not…" _In pain. Afraid, alone in the dark. Hating me. _

"You're sure?" It came so grudgingly that a minute stretched out before she heard him. "You might not like what you find. How can you be sure the truth will be any easier to live with than the probability?"

"I can't be. But this can't go on, Giles. I'm alive again. How am I supposed to act that way if half of me is locked inside that crypt with him?"

He touched her shoulder, and she let him. "I will help you, Buffy. If you're sure. I'll do whatever you need. Magics, money, caring for Dawn… only tell me what to do, and it will be done."

"I…" _I don't know how to tell you this. _Licking her lips, she tried again. "I'll need your car, I think. And a few weeks time. Maybe a spell, I don't know yet. Some packets of blood."

            "You're taking him away? Out of town? To where?" He rose, jostling the swing, and stood above her so tall and solid, she wanted to wrap herself in his arms and shove the thoughts of Spike back into the void of her brain. _I'd do it. Right person. I'd do it. _

            Twisting her hands together in her lap, she said, "I don't know where. It'll depend on… on Spike. What he needs. But I think his best shot… if he has a shot… is out there, away from people who know him."

            "But Buffy, he'll be with you. You know him."

            She raised her eyes to meet his. "We'll find out, won't we?"

            Holding his hand out to her, he smiled a little when she took it but made no move to pull her up. "Buffy. Be certain about this before you act. Once you see him, well… nothing can change that. The knowledge will always be with you. It will not be pretty, what you find in that crypt. And it will stay in your mind."

            She pressed the back of his hand to her cheek. "It's already there. Can't you see that? Only, all the what-if's are there, not the truth. There's only one truth, and one awful truth is easier to carry than millions of awful possibilities." Standing, she said, "He gave up everything for me. This one small thing… I can do this for him."

            Giles wrapped his long arm around her shoulders and walked with her into the house. "Come inside. I have some things that might be of help to him. Or to you, with him. And we must figure a way to break through the imprisoning spell." 

            "That's not what Willow called the spell," Buffy said as she closed the door behind them. Looking out the small, square window in its center, she pressed both palms flat against the wood and conjured up the image of the door to his crypt, of his presence behind it. _I would do it too, Spike, _she told him, sending the words through the dark night towards him. _Just be there when I come for you. Hold on that long. _"She called it the Sanctuary of the Damned."

*****

            They drove to the cemetery together, all three silent until the Honda's headlights flashed over the toothy row of gravestones. Giles pulled the car up to the door of the crypt. He shut off the engine, but made no move to get out. Resting his head back, he tilted it towards Buffy. "You're sure?"

            "Yeah," Dawn said, scrambling up from the back seat and leaning on the consol with her elbows. "Because you can still change your mind."

            Buffy ran the backs of her fingers down her sister's sleek hair. "Dawn, why don't you want me to go help him? I thought you liked Spike."     

            "I do. I mean, sorta. But… Buffy, you promised him that you'd leave him alone. After everything he did for you, everything he went through, don't you think… I mean, doesn't it seem wrong to break that promise?"

            "You don't even know that he's alive," Giles said. "It's been a year. That's quite a long time to go without feeding, without company or… or anything. And he wasn't exactly the picture of sanity when Willow locked him in there."

            Dawn shuddered at the mention of Willow's name. "But he let her do it for a reason. That night, Buffy, he saved your life. Shouldn't we… I don't know, respect that?"

            Pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes, Buffy sighed. "Look, I don't know, okay? I'm just as clueless as both of you are. No, Dawn, I don't like breaking my promise. But I never should have made it to begin with. He saved my life, got Willow to go after him instead of me. I should have broken the spell right away and taken him home. I should have… but he wouldn't let me. And I've tried, since then, to forget where he is and why he's where he is- I can't forget it."

            "None of us can forget that night." Giles' gaze was fixed on the darkness outside the windshield, but he looked so distant, Buffy knew he was picturing another darkness a year before, lit by the fire of a burning witch. "It was the worst of my life, by far. Spike was merely one victim of a greater tragedy."

            "I haven't forgotten Willow and Xander either," Buffy said. "Or Tara. You think I could? But they are dead. Spike is still here. Probably. And I have to help him."

            Dawn's hair fell forward to veil her face, but her eyes flashed hotly behind the cover of brown. "He wanted to be left alone. Don't you get that? He doesn't want you."

            "I get that, Dawn. I do. I never forget it. Most days, it's hard to think of anything else."

            "But you're still going to take him out of there." Giles met Buffy's eyes over Dawn's head. "I understand. Heroes do as heroes must."

            Blushing, Buffy said, "I'm not feeling all that heroic right now."

            Giles opened his door. "Let's get this done. Dawn, you'll wait out here. Buffy, get the axe from the trunk."

            "Axe?" Dawn rolled down the backseat window and watched as Buffy retrieved the large weapon. "You're gonna get him out of there with an axe?"

            "Willow's spell worked on the sort of magic that allowed her prowess over supernatural beings. Nothing magical will help with this." Giles took the axe from Buffy. "Stand aside. You won't be able to strike so much as a blow, being other than human yourself."

            She didn't move. "Dawn, get out of the car and wait at the cemetery gates."

            "What? Buffy, no. He's my friend. I want to see him."

            "You think he'd want you to see him weak? If this works then I'll bring him home in a few weeks. You can see him then." 

            Dawn's answer was to slam the car door shut and stomp away. Watching her sister leave, Buffy said, "When you get the door down, I want you to take Dawn and leave right away, before she can run back here to see… whatever's inside."

            "But you…"

            "No, don't wait around to make sure I'm okay. I can handle myself. Just take care of my sister, Giles. I'm counting on you."

            "Of course. And we're counting on you to take care of yourself. Whatever we find in there, Buffy, just remember… he did it for his love for you, but that does not make you at fault."

            "I didn't understand what was happening, that night. I was injured. If I hadn't been, if I'd had any clue what was going on, I would never have let him…"

            Giles picked up the axe and swung it in a large arc at the door, the loud noise cutting off Buffy's words. Chips of wood flew out to fall at Buffy's feet. She picked one up and rubbed it between two fingers. _I'd do it. Right person. Person I loved. I'd do it._ "He warned me, but I didn't even know it, much less what I was being warned about."

            Stopping in mid-swing, Giles turned to her. "What did you say?"

            "Nothing. Just… hurry." _I would do it, too._

*****

            They were too busy chopping their way into the crypt to notice the sounds Dawn's shoes made on the wet grass as she crept back towards the car. She knelt against the front tire, hidden by the hood, and ignored the discomfort of soggy denim against her knees in favor of studying what was happening before her. This was big, she knew, big in the way life-changing moments are. Not as big as what she'd seen the year before, hiding in this same cemetery, plugging her nose to keep clean of the smell of her old friend's burning skin. But big, nonetheless. 

            She flinched a bit as Giles tossed the axe away. The door had a large hole in it, big enough for her sister to slip through, but Buffy made no move, only said something too quiet for Dawn to hear. Giles spoke back, his chest rising and falling so rapidly Dawn knew even from where she knelt that whatever he was seeing did not make him happy. Switching her focus to Buffy, she wrinkled her nose, confused at why her sister wasn't effected by whatever Giles saw. Then she realized that Buffy was not looking inside the crypt. Buffy was looking at the car, looking at her.

            Jumping to her feet, Dawn opened her mouth, but all words dried up as her sister grabbed Giles by his arm and pulled him with her, towards the car. "I…I…I…"

            "Take her and get out of here," Buffy said. "I have to… I didn't… I don't… I don't know. Giles, is he…" 

            "He's not dust." Giles mouth folded into a grim line. "That's the good news."

            "That's as positive as you can be?" Dawn craned her neck, thankful for once that she was taller than Buffy. There was just enough light from the streetlamp to illuminate the crypt's entrance. She saw… _Oh god. _Rising up on her toes, she steadied herself with a hand on Buffy's shoulder. "Is that a skeleton?"

            Beneath her hand, Buffy's muscles went rigid. "Giles?" she asked, her voice breaking.

            "No, it's not that bad. He's… it's bad, but not… there's no skeleton." He slid a finger under Buffy's chin and tipped her head up so that she looked at him. "It's not the worst it could be. But it's not pretty either. Do you want me to stay?"

            "Get Dawn out of here," Buffy said. She backed away from them towards the crypt. "I have to help him."

            Dawn shook her head. "But I…" 

            "Hush Dawn." Gripping her arm, Giles pulled her with him down the path, away from Buffy. He walked so quickly, Dawn tripped over her feet trying to keep up with him. 

            As they passed under the archway of the cemetery gates, Dawn felt a bubble of panic rise in her throat. "We can't just leave her there. He could… she… Giles!" Yanking free, she crossed her arms over her chest and glowered at him. "How can you leave her like that? She might need us."

            With a shake of his head, Giles walked on. "Buffy knows what she needs," he called over his shoulder.

            Cursing under her breath, Dawn rushed to catch up to him. "And what's that?"

            "The truth. Something neither you nor I can give her."

            "And Spike can?"  
  


            "For Buffy's sake, I hope so."

*****

            He was lying naked on his belly near the doorway, the pale line of his back glowing orange in the light of the streetlamp. Sitting beside him, she examined the way ridges of bone prodded up against his skin, dividing his body into sections. She traced a finger above them, across the twin wings of his shoulder blades, down the cobbled track of his spine, but did not touch him. Some things were too invasive and besides, she'd fallen out of practice when it came to him.

            "Spike," she whispered, bending her head down towards his ear. "Can you wake up?" 

            He didn't move. Were he human, Buffy would have thought he was dead. Realizing that she would have to touch him in order to help him, she pulled him over onto his side, keeping her vision restricted to his face. "Spike, I'm going to help you."

            _A skeleton, _she thought, rubbing her thumb over the smudges of dirt that lined the deep hollows of his cheekbones. _Not quite, but close enough. _Lifting him awkwardly, she carried him out of the crypt. The Honda's passenger seat reclined fully, and Buffy laid him there, snapping the seatbelt over him to keep him from falling over. Dawn had left a blanket for him on the seat. She pulled it around his shoulders, covering his nakedness, and pushed a long, tangled curl off his forehead. "Be right back. There's something inside we'll need." 

            Inside the crypt, she tried not to breathe deeply. The stench was powerful enough to make her eyes water, made up of too many parts to identify. She didn't want to be drawn to the sarcophagus, but the pull was almost magnetic in its strength. _I did want the truth. _

Flinging off the heavy stone cover, she made herself look down into the grave. _Sanctuary of the damned. But were you damned, Willow? _There was no corpse, of course. Buffy hadn't been expecting one. Just ashes. So many ashes, weighted by the occasional fragment of bone. And a cross, slender and gold, lying on top the remains. She lifted it, still attached to the necklace, and clenched it in a fist that shook, as her entire body shook, with anger and guilt and the blackness of sorrow. _Sorrow, still? After all she did?_

            Something scurried behind her, making her startle. A rat. Drawn out of her thoughts, she replaced the lid of the grave and hurried to the ladder, to the bottom level of the crypt, to retrieve what she'd come for. 

            When she left the crypt moments later, Spike hadn't moved. She climbed into the car and turned on the engine. Before putting the gear into drive, she pulled the heavy cuffs from her jacket. The handcuffs had been in the drawer of his bedside table and it was obvious by the layers of dust that they hadn't been used since her last visit. Clapping one around Spike's wrist, the other around her own, she hoped they would be enough to keep him with her when he awoke. "You are going to wake up, right? Giles… he wasn't so sure… but Spike, I think you will." She watched him carefully, hoping for a blink, even a twitch, but there was nothing. _No one's at home._

              "But you have a while, so take your time. I'll just keep driving. There's plenty of blood in the back and as soon as we're in a place that's safe from the sunrise, you are going to eat, mister. The boney look is no good on you." She pulled the car out of the cemetery and drove up the street towards the freeway. "Take your time, though, really. I'll be here when you wake up. And if there's anything you need…" _I'd do it. Right person. _"Anything at all, I'll do it."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks to my betas, Sass and Emma.

*****

            When the night sky gave way to a blue haze of pre-dawn, Buffy pulled the Honda off the freeway and into the parking lot of a motel. Its paint was peeling and gray, but it was open, brightly lit. and according to her map, the only place to stay within fifty miles. As tired as she was, she barely remember to unhook herself from the hand cuffs before leaving Spike in the car to pay for a room. She didn't bother reattaching them when she returned. He wouldn't run from her while they were in the middle of nowhere. Confident of that and, more so, that he wouldn't wake up anytime soon, she lifted him out of the car and into their room.  

            It wasn't much, just a full size bed, a wooden desk, and a bathroom she knew would have a tub, thanks to the extra twenty dollars she'd given the manager. "And that's where you're going first," she told Spike as she brought him through the doorway and kicked it shut behind them. "I've been killing demons for a lot of years now, and you smell more rank than all of them rotting together in the sun."

            Letting his blanket fall to the floor, she laid him on top of it while she ran the water, making it as hot as she could stand. There were complimentary bottles of shampoo, but she overlooked them in favor of the soap Giles had given her. "It's for farmers, I think," she said, pulling it out of her backpack and reading the label. "Giles thought you'd need the heavy duty stuff."

            She folded a towel and placed it beside the tub to kneel on, then lowered him into the water, catching the back of his head in her hands. "I think we'll wait on the hair for a minute and start by getting some of these layers of dirt off you. Then a shampoo and maybe, when you're feeling better, a cut. I didn't bring any bleach along, sorry 'bout that. If you want some, later, we can stop and buy it. Along with a razor. Giles didn't have a spare, and we've gotta get this scruff off your chin before it sits up and eats you for dinner."

            Dipping a washcloth into the water, she started to scrub, touching his skin as little as possible. The soap made bubbles on the water's surface that offered him a degree of privacy, though it wasn't necessary. Hard enough to bring herself to handle even his arm. "Don't worry. Your chastity's safe with me."

 She concentrated on his shoulders first, then his neck and the upper part of his chest. Taking his body a segment at a time helped her focus on the task at hand and avoid dwelling on the way his skin stretched over his collarbone to the point of translucence. She did not want to question how long it had been since he was last strong enough to catch a rat, or wonder if the twitches beneath his eyelids were signs of consciousness or merely a random firing of neurons. All she wanted was to get him washed, get him fed, and put him to bed. The rest could come later. 

Washing down his withered biceps to his hands, she noticed his nails were shorn off. She glanced down at his toes and the rest of his nails missing as well. _I don't want to know. I **so** do not want to know. _She let his hands fall into the water, pasted a smile on her face, and said, "There. That's better." 

            His arms clean, she moved to his legs, picking up one foot and it out of the water. "You have nice feet," she said, dunking the cloth under the water and running it between his toes. "I always thought so. Funny, isn't it, the memories people keep? It's hard to call up much about the first time we kissed, you and I, but then there was that whole love spell thing to take into consideration. I guess that's kind of like being drunk and waking up the next morning with a headache and a stranger in your lap. At least with the love spell, we got cookies. Anyway, don't remember much about the first kiss, but I do remember the first time I noticed you barefoot." Finishing his toes, she rested his heel on her knee and watched his face. "I was on patrol. Not surprising. It was the night before Christmas, walking through your cemetery, alone. And no, I was not coming to see you. Not really. Just… walking."

            Studying his face, she waited for a reaction, but continued without missing a beat. "So, there I was, walking, looking for dangerous undead, when you came out of your crypt and stepped right in front of me. Not dangerous in an 'I have to stake you' sense, but with there was this light in your eyes, a-a heat. It was like you knew I'd be coming by at that exact moment, like you were watching for me. Maybe you were. I know I checked my bedroom window a hundred times over the last year, hoping to see you by the tree. You were never there. I mean, of course you weren't. I knew you wouldn't be there. You had your Sanctuary, after all. Giles and Dawn told me I was insane. But… I still looked."

            The water was brown and sludgy. Lifting the drain, she waited for a minute before running fresh water into the tub. "That night. Christmas Eve. There was frost on the ground. You stood in front of me, wearing only your jeans. No boots, no coat. I thought you'd be cold but if you were, you didn't seem to care. All you wanted was for me to come with you, to be with you. I might have, that night. Just for a bit even though Dawn and the rest of the gang were waiting for me to get home. We were doing gifts, Santa, the whole deal. Like a real family. I didn't want to be there, with them. It was too… normal. Too claustrophobic. I couldn't breathe. But I didn't want to spent Christmas Eve in a crypt screwing a vampire, either. Some things you don't get forgiven for, even by your family. That'd be one."

            She checked his face- still no reaction- and picked up the shampoo with a sigh. Pouring some into her palm, she sat on the toilet seat and took his head between her hands. His hair was long and what wasn't matted into clumps tangled and clung to her fingers. It felt so different from the way it once had, but Buffy didn't want to think of that either. She kept talking to him, hoping to bring him back with the sound of her voice if not with her words. "So, there we were. I had to choose between you and my friends, yet again. Only that night the choice was made for me. I'd given in, just a little, and I kissed you. I still wasn't planning on staying, though. Then, all of a sudden, Willow showed up. She said she'd come to find me but really, she couldn't breathe in that house either. Not while Tara was there, not that month. They hadn't made up yet. I'm sure she thought about that later, when Tara died. They'd wasted so much of their time together fighting. Not without good reason, obviously, but still…"

            She cupped water in her hands and poured it over his scalp, rinsing away the soap, turning his head to the side to keep the suds from running into his eyes. "You might be wondering how I can talk like this. About the time _before… _about Tara and Xander and even about Willow, without crying, o-or screaming. Sometimes, I wonder the same thing. It doesn't seem right. Shouldn't it be harder? See, though, I can't think of Willow- my Willow- as the same person who did… what she did, that night. My mind… it just doesn't work that way. I've got them split into two separate people. The bad Willow is dead, but my Willow… she's all over the place. Sometimes I imagine she's away at school in England, at Oxford. She used to love listening to Giles talk about his time there. And sometimes, I pretend she and Tara are on a long vacation. Backpacking through Europe together, very romantic, very… together." Capping the shampoo bottle, she sat back and reached for a fresh towel. "I do a lot of pretending these days." 

            "Anyway, I'm getting off track. I was telling you about Christmas Eve. Willow came up the path towards me. It was obvious she'd been crying. Blotchy skin, red eyes, the whole works. You know she could never hide her feelings, back then. Do you remember what happened next?" She folded the towel lengthwise and placed it under his neck as a pillow. "Willow stared at me. I stared back at her. I tried to say something, make up some sort of excuse, but the words wouldn't come. And you, you were watching me like a hawk, wondering what I'd tell her. My lips felt huge on my face. This sounds weird, I know, but it was like she was looking at them- my lips- instead of the rest of me, like all she could see was the part of my body that had touched you. Then…" 

Standing, Buffy folded her arms across her chest. She peered down at the top of his head, taking deep breaths. _Be calm. Get through this._ "Then, she turned and walked away. Just like that. She didn't say a word, or ask any questions. She just… left. And that was that. She never mentioned it. I wondered, after she died, if she thought of what she'd seen… us kissing… when she made you… well. Damn. Forget what I said about this not being hard. I can talk about Willow, just not… just not about that night. Not to you. Not like this." _Not until I know you have survived her._  

            Now that he was clean, the dark purple smudges under his eyes stood out in dark relief against the pale skin pulled tautly across his cheekbones. Even his lips were white. Bending down, she touched her index finger to them, half expecting him to open his mouth and take the tip inside. When he didn't, she moved away, turned on the sink and splashed cool water on her face. _This can't last. I have to find a way to reach him…or at least a way to figure out if there's any **him **left to reach. _"Spike… what am I going to do with you? C'mon. Let's get you out and dry. There's a baggie of blood in my backpack with your name on it. Giles packed a whole cooler full. Also he donated a shirt and some sweat pants. They will be pretty big on you, but you'll fit in them soon enough, now that you're out of that evil place and back to eating more substantial food than rats."  
  


            His skin was slick beneath her hands. As she lifted him, she thought of times passed when she had caused his body to fly through the air with the lightest of punches and kicks. He never was a big man but now he felt breakable, in the way a newborn is, a fragile weightlessness, his angles awkward in her arms. Water splashed over her body, soaking her jeans and tank top, but she held him close and carried him out to lie on the bed, caring about nothing except the thought that tugged on her conscience: _he did this for me. _

            The bed creaked under his weight, slight as he was. She pulled the sheet up to cover him, the dampness of his skin making blackish patches on the red fabric. The bag of blood had warmed in her backpack long enough to be palatable. Ripping the top, she sat beside him and lifted his head onto her knees. His mouth fell open. "I'll try not to choke you," she said, dribbling the liquid past his lips. "Spike, drink. This stuff is really, really what you need to wake up. It's human. It will make you strong again." She turned her face away, gulping. "It's also really, really gross."

            She rubbed his throat, trying to get him to swallow. Feeling his muscles contract, she smiled. "There. That's more like it. I knew you were still with me. You are, aren't you? Still in there?" Her words met a silence broken only by his soft, gulping noises. "Yeah, okay. It's not like I expected you to sit up and tell me all is forgiven and forgotten. But…" _I hoped. Amazing, but true. I still have hope. _ "Spike, just… rest. And heal. I'll be here when you wake up, even if you hate me for it. I should have never made that stupid promise, but things were crazed. Xander and Tara were dead. Giles and I were both bleeding. You had my blood on your mouth and Willow was…" _She was on fire. The cemetery glowed with the light of her burning skin. It hurt my eyes, I could not see… _

She rested her forehead against the bed frame and closed her eyes. "Just wake up. We can deal with everything, together, once you're awake."

*****

            _Just a dream, _he told himself. _Another dream. S'no water here. No bed. Nothing warm, nothing at all soft. _

But it couldn't be a dream. He never dreamed of comfort. _'Course not. Too many bad things to be dreamed of. Why waste a good sleep on comfort? _

            And Buffy was not here. Not in the crypt, not in his dreams. Never. _If I think that enough times, maybe it will come true. Maybe then the nightmares will stop. The memories… don't want to remember her. Don't want to think. _  ****

            There was a pressure on his neck, soft, light. Could be another cockroach. Too small to be a rat. He tried to smack it away, but couldn't raise his hand. The pressure moved down across his collarbone to the top of his chest and stayed there. His ears buzzed with an odd sensation… a voice, talking to him after so many long months of silence. A real voice. Buffy's voice. This was no dream.

            _No. Bloody bitch. She promised to leave me alone. Promised she'd stay away. Never trust her. Never could. Never did. All her words turn empty in the end._

            Something wet tickled his mouth. For a long moment, he couldn't figure out what was happening. Then the taste brought him back. Blood. Human blood. Turning his face up to the bag, he found its edges with his mouth and sucked at it. His fingers twitched with the want to grab it. Feeling his vampire ridges surface, he tried to think, tried to understand what was happening, but all he knew was the metallic taste of the blood on his tongue. _I'm not dead. Don't I drink, then? Don't I taste it? Must be alive. Must be William. _

Except he wasn't, he realized as the tightly-stretched skin over his vampire lumps pulled with each gulp he took. Not a human. Not a man. Just a demon with man parts. Just another demon, swallowing human blood. _No. No feeding. Bad. Evil, so evil… _

He spat the blood out as forcefully as he could but it clung to his chin and cheeks in heavy droplets. _Can't get it off. Can't get away from it. _Struggling again to lift his hand, he dragged it over his torso and up to his chin, rubbing clumsily. _Can't get clean. _

            "Spike. Can you talk?" He heard Buffy's voice as if from far away. _Buffy. She's here. She came for me. But she promised. She said the words, the 'yes, I will, I promise. For you. Because…' words,  and I remember those words, remember the devastation in her voice, could hardly hear her through the screaming, couldn't touch her, not with my arms full of burning witch, but I heard those words, she said them. More empty words. Bitch. Bloody, sodding, magnificent bitch. _

"Spike, I know you can hear me. Can you feel this?" Fingers prodded his rib cage. Frowning, he tried to squirm away. "Spike, goddamn it, I know you're there. Open your eyes. I've been waiting so long. Look at me. Look!"

            _Bitch. _The tops of his eyelids seemed heavy with something loose and gritty, as though they'd been covered with sand. He forced them open. Blinking hard, he found Buffy's face inches from his own, her hazy eyes the first things he saw. "Bitch," he muttered, and coughed, choking a little on the leftover blood in his mouth.

            Droplets of blood flew out and slapped her across the cheek. Her eyes grew wide and wet. Then they slowly narrowed. "Welcome back," she whispered.

            "You should have kept your word. Should have left me there…" His eyelids sagged as a leaden exhaustion overtook him. Sinking his chin down onto his chest, he felt the blackness return.

            Buffy leaned over him, motionless, her gaze fixed on his blood-covered face. The last words he'd whispered before losing consciousness resonated inside of her. _Should have left me there… to rot… _Pressing her fists against her breast as if she could ease the tightness that grew there, she bowed her head down to him. She started to speak into his ear, but could think of nothing to say, nothing that could bring him back again. 

Finally, she lay next to him, her arms crossed over her chest, and closed her eyes. She tried not to breath through her nose. Spike still smelled of ashes, of burning flesh, and the tang of blood, old and new. _No, he doesn't. He can't. I bathed him. _Forcing herself to inhale deeply, she focused on the scent of soap but underneath, the smells of that night lingered on, waited for her. _But it's over. Done with. She's dead. _With that fact held fast in her mind, she fell asleep.   

*****

            She awoke to the sound of a ringing phone. For a moment she was confused. She'd told no one where they were. Then she recognized the distinctive ring Dawn had programmed  into her cell phone. _The Monster Mash, hahaha, _Buffy thought, pulling herself up on her elbows and digging through her backpack for the phone. Beside her, Spike did not stir. _But he was awake. He spoke to me. Okay, so he swore at me, but hey, awake is good no matter what. No matter what. _

            Squinting in the thin light emitted through the curtains, she found the button and lay back down, the phone against her ear. "Hello, Giles."

            "How did you know it was me?" Her Watcher's voice sounded tired.

            "Only you would call at sunrise. What, you thought I'd forget to close the shades?"  
  


            "Well, the last thing you need at the moment is for Spike to burst into flames. Am I right?"

            _Yeah, we did the whole 'setting our friends on fire' thing last year. Must be something new we can make into this year's trend. Beheadings, maybe. _Clearing her throat, she realized she'd been silent longer than normal. "Yeah. That's right. No fires."

            Giles lapsed into his own silence. Though temped, Buffy didn't tell him that she understood what he was thinking. _He was the one, after all. The one with the torch. It's got to be worse for him that way. _ When he spoke, his tone carefully casual. "How is he?"   

            "He woke up for a minute last night, after I fed him."

            "That's… that is encouraging news, Buffy. What did he say? Was he lucid?"

            She looked at Spike. The bloodstains remained on his chin, but the hollows of his face were shallower now, his color more normal. "Nothing important. But he was… himself. Coherent. I think he's sane. But weak, really weak."

            "If weakness is the worst of it, consider yourself lucky."

            "I do."

            Another silence fell. Buffy listened to the static on the line. 

"How's Dawn?" she asked finally.

            "Asleep at the moment. But fine. She misses you, but has said she wants you to stay away as long as necessary." There was a clicking sound, and Buffy knew he was cleaning his glasses. "She told me she doesn't want you to come home until you are yourself again. With or without Spike."

            "That's the general plan. Did you make the arrangements?"

            "Of course. Mr. Fielding's phone number was right where you said it would be. I spoke with him only briefly, but he seemed a pleasant man."

            "He is. Old Dan's a great guy. My granny told me once that even his kisses tasted sweet."

            "Ahm, well, that's… rather disgusting, actually. At any rate, I informed him you would be coming. He told me about your grandmother's farm, with many warnings of its decrepit state. I do hope you're prepared for this.'

            Memories made pictures in her mind. _Granny Annie on the porch, drawing, crayons melting in the summer heat. Feeding the cats in the barn, surrounded by their sleek, soft bodies. Sun warm on her shoulders as she wiggled her toes in the mud at the edge of the pond. Dawn's laughter, hanging upside-down over Old Dan's broad shoulders. _"I know it won't be the same. Granny's been dead for almost eleven years. Mom kicked Dan off to live in the caretaker's cottage but she never sent him any money for upkeep. Even when I was a kid, the place was falling apart. But it's mine now, and I'm going to fix it up."

            "Mr. Fielding also mentioned trouble with the local teen-agers. Apparently the lure of an abandoned farm is strong. They've created ghost stories to frighten themselves into a show of bravado which, he tells me, generally ends in graffiti, alcohol, and a good chasing-off by the police." 

            "That'll be easy enough to deal with. They're just kids, fooling around."

            "You think Spike will be strong enough to help?"

            "Maybe. We won't get there for a few more days. With enough blood in him, and enough rest… maybe. But it's a good place to heal. Granny bought it after her husband died. She moved my mom out there thinking it'd help mom get through her grief. But then Granny met Old Dan. He moved in and mom… well, she never liked him, or the farm. But I think Granny was right, even if it didn't work out back then."

            "Let's hope so. If nothing else, your optimism is heartening." 

            She heard the exhaustion that threaded his words and winced. "I'm sorry I had to leave you there with no help. Is everything still quiet, demon-wise? You sound so strange."  
  


            "I'm worried for you. That's all."

            "Don't be. I'm fine. You know me. Survivor girl."

            "Yes, I do know you. That's why I'm worried. You want to believe that Spike will heal and become exactly who you've imagined he could be this long year."

            Spike stirred, twisting onto his side. A deep groan came from his chest. "Giles, I've gotta go. He's waking up. Tell Dawn I said hi, and that everything is going to be fine. I'll call her in a couple days. And Giles… don't worry about me. I'm doing what I have to do. This is the only way any of us will be able to move on."

            She kept the phone pressed against her ear for a moment after he hung up, its heat on her skin sealing off his final words of warning. _But Buffy, there's nothing guaranteeing Spike's soul will make him into the man you want. _Beside her, Spike arched his back, stretching. 

"Hey, sleepy," she said, touching a fingertip to his cheek. "We should get going."

            Spike opened his eyes, startling her. "Where are you taking me?" 

            She shivered at the coldness in his tone, but kept her own friendly. "Upstate. To the country."

            "Do I get a say?" His jaw tightened as he tried to sit but found himself too weak to even raise his head.

            Frustration bit at her. She couldn't hold it back. "Can you walk out of here under your own power? No. I'll get you better, get you strong again but until then, we're following my plan. If you don't agree, you can stay here. But if you do, there's a bag of blood with your name on it, and plenty more after that."

            He was hungry, so hungry. The need for sustenance was raw on his face. "Fine," he said, and closed his eyes to the sight of her. She knew he would have stalked away if he could have. 

            "Before, I had handcuffs on you, to make sure you couldn't run away from me when you woke up. You can't run now. But I will put them back on you if I have to."

"What do you want from me, Slayer?" 

            Willow's words from that night came back to her. _You saw that he loved you, saw he'd do anything for you, and you took from him. You sucked him dry, just like you suck everyone dry. _Flames burned in her eyes, the memory strong enough to overtake her. Covering her face with her hands, she reminded herself to breathe, but she could still hear Willow's voice. _She ate and ate and just threw you the bones, didn't she, Spike?_

"Answer me, Slayer. What the bloody hell do you want from me?"

            _To forgive. To be forgiven. To survive this. _Dropping her hands to her lap, she whispered, "Nothing."__


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks to Sass, to Emma, and to Ali for the encouragement. Tiny reference to a fic by Nos called Leashing the Beast (go read it if you haven't, it's wonderful). This fic assumes that Tara did not spill the beans about Buffy and Spike during Seeing Red. Everything else is cannon up to Villains, where it branches off into my own little world.

*****

_            She was floating on her back. The lake water was warm, the sun was bright. With nothing between her body and the wide, blue sky, she felt happy and utterly relaxed. Then, in the time it took her to blink, the sky filled with dark storm clouds and a cold, sputtering rain began to fall._

_            "Buffy, come out," a voice called from the shore. Willow's voice. "Buffy, I need you. I've been waiting here for you."_

_            Buffy sank underwater. She opened her eyes and watched the surface from beneath. Raindrops struck hard, making a pattern that hypnotized her until the need for air began to burn her lungs. Exhaling, bubbles coming from her nose, she closed her eyes on the depths and kicked her way upwards._

            And found herself dry and clothed, sitting on her mother's living room couch. She blinked in confusion, then laughed. "Oh, I get it. This is a dream. Another Slayer dream for the collection of 'reasons my life sucks number eight billion'. At least I'm at home. Could be worse." She frowned suspiciously. "It's usually worse. Something must be wrong here."  Standing, she rushed into the kitchen. "Mom?" 

_            Willow sat at the counter, eating a plate of scrambled eggs. "Buffy. Listen, I need to talk to you."  _

_            "No." Whirling around, she ran into the entry way and up the stairs. "Mom?" _

_            Willow came up behind her. "Buffy, stop. Can't we just talk?"_

_            Buffy turned on the stairs and looked down at Willow. "I don't talk to murderers."_

_            "You talk to Spike. You talked to Angel. To Giles. To yourself."  
  
_

_            "Spike didn't kill Xander. Giles didn't try to kill Dawn. Or me. Or Anya. Or Spike." Something large seemed to throb in the pocket of her jacket. She pulled it out- it was a gun. "Sorry, Will," she said, cocking the weapon and aiming it at the witch. "I'm the Slayer. Chosen to protect the innocent. This is the job I have to do."_

_            "But Buffy, I'm already dead!"_

_            The shot rang so loudly, nothing else mattered._

_            Except the blood. It covered Buffy face. She wiped at it, trying to clear it from her eyes, trying to see, but it stuck to her skin, solidifying into a thick and gummy mask. Frantic, she screamed, tugging at the blood as it grew to cover her mouth, her nose. She couldn't breathe. _

_            "Buffy, this is only a dream." She heard the words Willow spoke and felt the warmth of her friend's hand splayed wide over the choking mask. "Here, see? I'll help you. And then you'll help me." _

_The heat from Willow's hand melted the blood enough for Buffy to get her fingers under the edges. Finally pulling it off, she hurled it away and looked around…_

            And found herself on the bluff, watching herself, Willow and Xander stand before the Satanic temple. Xander approached Willow with slow steps, his arms held out wide. Though she could not hear him, she remembered well the words he spoke and whispered them. "If you wanna kill the world, well then start with me. I've earned that." She shook her head. "Be careful what you wish for, Xander."  
  


            Willow threw her hands towards him, sending him back in a flash of magic. "You think I won't?"

_            "It doesn't matter," Buffy said for Xander, watching with detachment as he picked himself up off the ground and gave Willow a shaky smile. "I'll still love you."_

_            At his words, Willow shrieked. She rushed towards him, but her magic preceded her. It hit Xander in the chest, a glowing ball of power that sent him cart-wheeling through the air. Just before he hit the side of the temple, Buffy closed her eyes, trying to block out the crunching sound. She kept them closed, hoping that when she opened them again, she'd be somewhere better. "Willow. I don't want to have this dream anymore. Can we just stop now?"_

_            "But there's so much more to see. The night's young and all that. Don't you remember?"_

_            "I know what comes next. You pick up Xander's body and fly away. I run back to the Magic Box to get Giles, Anya and Dawn. I talk them into leaving town, but then Giles has second thoughts and turns back to help me. He sends Anya ahead, and she teleports over to Spike, to warn him that I'll need help. And then.." _

_            "You do remember. Yay for you. We don't have to go back through that part then. But Buffy, I still need your help."_

_            "I don't want to help you. Leave me alone. Let me wake up."_

_            "Oh, poor Buffy. You're tired, aren't you. It's been a long couple of days, huh? Dragging Spike through the woods to grandmother's house. Go ahead. Wake up."_

_            Buffy smiled, relieved. "Thanks Will," she said, opening her eyes. Her smile froze as she found herself in the cemetery. Willow stood before her, just as she had the year before, her black, evil eyes glaring,  and her hands crackling with energy. "Don't mention it. What are friends for?"_

_            "You're gonna make me go through it all, aren't you? Willow, haven't we done this before?"_

_            "Play it." The demand was undeniable, laced with the threat of violence.._

_            "Fine. But then I get to wake up." Coughing, she changed her tone, adding layers of fear and anger. She knew this dream. Soon it would take over and she would not be pretending. It always happened this way. But for the first few moments, she had to play her part deliberately. Squaring her shoulders, she prepared for the act. She looked over at the circle of lit candles Willow had placed on the ground. Inside, Xander and Tara lay side-by-side, she days dead, he only hours. "Willow, leave them alone. You have to stop this. You don't want to do this."_

_"You can't stop me," she said in a normal voice, as though she spoke of something trivial rather than raising her dead friends as zombies._

_            "I already did." Buffy pointed to the figure who stood by the crypt, pale gray shadows against the black stone. Spike stood alone, which was weird because she remembered being there beside him, touching him. It had been the first time she'd seen him with his soul, a moment far too short for her to understand the change in him, and seeing him there by himself threw her off, made her want to go to him. But this was only a dream, after all, though far too close to reality for her liking even with such discrepancies. "You'll see. It's about to end. Watch."_

_            As Spike reached Willow, Buffy took her place at his side, blocking the circle with her body. "Willow," she said, "What you bring back… it won't be them. Xander and Tara are gone."_

_            Until Buffy heard the laugh that Willow made just then, she'd never understood the term 'cackle like a witch'. It sent a cold rush through her body. Willow drew close to Spike and leered up into his face. "Not like you've ever minded, Buffy. Sleeping with a corpse. Angel was cold to the touch. How did it feel to press up against him? To feel all that dead flesh against yours?"_

_            Buffy floundered for a moment, but rebounded. "It doesn't matter what I've done. What matters is what you're about to do. Will, this is wrong. You've already done so much… hurt so many… Can't you stop now? Can't it be enough?"_

_            "You're asking me when it's enough? When it's all your fault?"_

_            "Mine?"_

            "You came here and started all this, didn't you? Before you, there were no vampires. No Hellmouth. No demons that needed killing so desperately, even a powerless human like Xander had to risk his life in the fight. No lovers who got shot by pissed-off geeks on power trips."

_            Spike spoke for the first time, his voice soft. "Buffy saved all your lives, time and again. She doesn't deserve this. I- I'm sorry about Tara, Red. And the whelp. But blaming Buffy isn't the way. Why don't we go and…"_

Willow cut him off with a sound that was half a chuckle, half a gasp of pain. She pushed Spike once with a firm hand on his chest. "What a gentleman you've turned into, Spike. Being all protective and chivalrous. And isn't that always the way. Beautiful Buffy surrounded by her circle of doting men. What's it like, Buffy, to have all these guys hanging on your every word? Xander, Angel, Riley, Spike, even Giles… and don't think I don't know that Tara confided in you. Everyone loves Buffy. Everyone gives and gives to you- their time, their love, hell, even their lives fighting your fight, oh Chosen One. And what do they get in return. The brush-off. The 'I'm busy now, gotta go patrol, so sorry 'bout your troubles but I'm busy now, too busy for you'. The empty touch. And now, look. Xander loved you. And you've given him a grave."

_Buffy shook her head, stricken. "No. No, I…" _

_Spike got up from the ground and stood straight at her side. "Buffy's caused her share of hurt. But she didn't kill Xander, witch. That was all you."_

_ "Spike. Look at you. All brave now, with your soul."  
  
_

_Spike shot a look at Buffy, who stared at him, paling with shock. "You didn't tell me."_

_"There wasn't time. And after what's happened, I didn't think it would make much difference to you."_

_Looking down, she took in a deep breath. "It might have."_

_"No." Ignoring Willow for a moment, he grabbed Buffy's arm. "It was never the soul that stopped you from loving me. If you ever would have, it would've been when we were together. I sought it out, went all the way to Africa,  and I won it so that I could be a man. One who wouldn't hurt you. What you deserve. But I never lied to myself. Just because I'm what you deserve doesn't mean you want me."_

Willow followed their exchange with interest, finally understanding. "Oooh, Buffy. Look who's been keeping secrets. You and Spike. Huh." She peered over Buffy's shoulder to look at the corpses. "I think I hear Xander turning over."

"Will… no. It wasn't like that. He was just… I just needed something. After I came back. You don't understand. It wasn't… it was just a thing, just… nothing."

_Spike flinched, his jaw clenching rigidly. Willow caught his look of hurt and smiled, sauntering to stand toe-to-toe with him. He didn't back down, and her smile grew. "Oh, no. I think I do understand. You saw that he loved you, saw he'd do anything for you, and you took from him. You sucked him dry, just like you suck everyone dry." She touched Spike, splayed her fingers over his cheek. "I remember that. The way you feel when your love is taken and eaten up but not returned. She ate and ate and just threw you the bones, didn't she, Spike?"_

_He could not disagree. The truth was alive on his face, in the slumped set of his shoulders._

_Willow continued. "You know what I think? I think it's Spike's turn to eat. To eat and eat and eat from you, Buffy, till there's nothing left." She rose onto her toes and whispered something into Spike's ear._

_"What are you doing?" Buffy asked, hearing only that she spoke in Latin. She started to move forward, but found herself mystically stuck in place. "Let me go and get away from him!" She gasped as Spike's eyes flashed black, the same black as Willow's. _

_Willow waved her hand and he moved towards Buffy, every muscle of his body tense with panic. His face was frozen, he could not speak. Willow laughed. "I'm inside his head now. I can feel him, hear his thoughts. He wants to tell you to run. But it won't help. It's like having a puppet, you know? Only more fun. I can make him kill you. He'll hate it. He's screaming inside his mind, but no one will hear but me. Poor Spike. It's really only you, Buffy, who deserves to hurt. I'll have to make it up to him, later. But first…"_

_Buffy tried to back away, but Willow's spell kept her in place. "Uh-uh, I saw that. Where are you trying to go? Your lover's hungry. Stay and feed him."_

_"Stop this, Willow. You're using him. He doesn't want to do this. What about his chip?"_

_Willow shook her head. "I hold the chip between my fingers. I smash it. Tiny bits of jetsam, and no more leashed beast."_

_Spike took Buffy's arms in his hands and squeezed. She tried to shake him off, but _

_couldn't. Willow's magic strengthened him, and Buffy felt weak under his grasp, breakable. He did not hesitate, but bared her neck with a quick jerk and lunged, sinking his fangs into her jugular._

_She moaned, torn between the pain, the fear, and the need to make him understand that she did not blame him. "It's okay, it's okay," she repeated, over and over, trying to comfort them both. "It's all her. I know it is."_

_Her legs shook as she weakened and she sagged against him. "It's okay," she whispered, stroking his back. "I'm going to kill her." But not if I'm dead. She felt her eyelids sink closed._

_"You won't die. And it won't be you who kills me."_

_She snapped her eyes open at the words and found herself sitting next to Willow on a park bench. The sun overhead was unnaturally bright, washing out the world like a badly-treated negative. "What's next? You gonna keep putting me through the paces?"_

_"No paces." Willow pulled a pencil from behind her ear and dropped it over her lap. She levitated it with ease, making it wag from side-to-side. "But we have to talk. I need your help."_

_"I told you already, I don't want to help you. We're done. You're dead."_

_"I'm dead, but we're not done. And you will help me. You help me, and I'll help you. That's what friends are for."_

_"If you were my friend, you'd let me wake up now."_

_Willow patted her on the knee. "Go on. He's calling you. But I'll see you soon. We've got to talk. I need your help."_

"Buffy!" Someone was shaking her by the shoulder, gripping it hard enough to hurt her. "Come on, wake up."

            Thrusting herself out of his grasp, she pulled her arms up close to her chest. "I'm awake, already," she muttered, groggily opening her eyes and giving Spike a glare. "What's your problem?"

            He pointed at the steering wheel. "Your use of the horn as an extremely loud, extremely annoying alarm clock, for one."

            "I…huh?"

            "You fell asleep there, with your head on the wheel. Woke up pushing the horn with your forehead." He collected himself and leaned into passenger side door, as far away from her as he could get. Looking straight ahead through the blackness of the windshield, he rested his head against the window. She watched him pull away from her, body and spirit, and winced. If he noticed, he did not care. Speaking through half-open lips, he said, "Are we going or what?"

            "We're here. I would've woke you, but…" Shrugging, she flipped on the headlights, illuminating the side of a house several feet in front of them. "Not much to see. Yet, at least. We've got work to do. I thought you could use your rest."

            He closed his eyes in response, but Buffy pressed on, holding fast to her fragile optimism. _He spoke, and he is coherent. And he didn't call me a bitch. That's something._ "You're probably wondering why I brought you here."

            "Kidnapping crossed my mind." He mumbled the words without moving.

            "No! No kidnapping. You can… well, okay, you can't leave. I'll stop you if you try. And then there were the handcuffs, but…" She turned to him, the seat creaking under her movement. "Look. If I'd known all it would take to get you to speak to me was a little honking of the horn, I would've done it days ago. We're going to be here for a long time, and it's going to be just the two of us. Can't we… well, even pretend things are semi-normal?"

            His arm moved towards her so fast, he was gripping her by the back of her neck before she'd even realized he'd moved. She winced as he jerked her face near his own. It twisted with anger, which startled her but she did not try to free herself. His eyes flashed gold and he bared his teeth, flat though they were. "Normal can't even come close to us now, Buffy. We've moved dimensions past normal. You get that? You hear me? Eons past it."

            "But Spike…" Her words were quiet and calm. "I forgave you."

            "But I didn't forgive you! Oh, yeah, for the beatings, sure. I moved past that long before I came back from Africa with my soul. Oddly enough, it wasn't much of a problem for me. I loved you. I could have forgiven you anything."

            "Anything except for breaking down the Sanctuary."

            He dropped his hand from her neck and threw himself back, moving violently away from her. With his face pressed against the dark glass of the window, he spoke with grinding, unnatural patience. "Buffy. Yes. Anything but that. And look, you shouldn't be so quick to forgive. What I did to you…"

            Something wet dripped against the roof of the car. Beyond the trees, a dog barked. She could hear it all, every night noise, and took a second to breathe- _breathe, Buffy-_ before replying. ""You were in a wheelchair once. You know what it's like to be broken"

            He snorted incredulously. "And you're broken? Now, after everything, you decide it's time to break?"

            "No. It's not like I woke up one morning and found myself all in pieces. It was… well, mom died, then I did, and then…"

            "Me. What I put you through." He thumped his forehead against the glass, his voice souring. "I put you through ."

            "Some of it was you, but… Not all of the stuff with you was bad. Some of it was… but some of it helped. You loved me. That helped. I might've been okay. Maybe. Especially when Giles told me you were back. And when I found out about your soul, and for a split second, I was… well, there was hope. For you. For us. But then everything went all crazy. Everyone… they all… died. And I had no one. Not really."  
  


            "Your Watcher lived. And Dawn."

            "But I couldn't get close to them. Nothing felt real. It was like that right after I came back, you know? I couldn't feel anything. But this time, I couldn't even feel myself. It was like I was invisible, even to… even to me." She interlaced her fingers and stared at them, remembering. "And then, there was you. You were trapped in that crypt, all alone, for eternity. Whatever you'd done, you didn't deserve that. I knew you weren't going to hurt anyone. Not again. And I couldn't stand to think of you rotting in that crypt, knowing you were only there because… because you saved my life." Opening her hands, she put them flat on the steering wheel, her skin pale against the dark leather. "You were suffering because you loved me."

            "You forget, Slayer, and like always, it's what you don't want to know that you have forgotten. There were two purposes to the Sanctuary. It wasn't just to keep others safe from me. It was to keep me safe from them. Willow was crazy as a loon that night, but she got the one part right. I'm full up of death and blood and hurtful words… mistrust, misuse… I'm full to overflowing of it all. Can't take anymore. But you pulled me out of my Sanctuary anyway, not caring a bit that I was protected there. Alone, starved… but safe."

            Pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes, she tried to speak around the pain in her chest. "Giles told me that. He told me, but I…"

"Do you know what rats sound like when its been months and months of darkness and their claws against the cement by your face are the only sounds you hear? They sound like monsters, that's what. Huge and lurking, ready to eat you whole if you don't stay so still, so quiet…" Shaking his head, he wrapped his arms around his chest, shivering as though suddenly cold. "Do you know what it's like not to eat for a year? Or bathe, or speak, or… And still, Buffy, still I preferred that to being free. To being here with you."

She flinched, making a small sound of alarm. "I'm that bad, huh?"

"I didn't think you were. No, I never… never did. Never could. To me, you were… sunlight. Burning and killing, dangerous. Beautiful and bright. But look at you. Dragging a demon out, playing rescue-girl to a creature of evil. This is wrong, Buffy. Even you must realize that."

"It's not wrong. You're different now. You have a soul. And I'm asking again, am I that bad?"

"No. It's not just you. Everything is… harsh. Painful. The sound of the radio hurts my ears. The lights of the streetlamps hurts my eyes, but I have to look. I have to be near a window. I just can't stand feeling closed in. And yet, being in the open seems so wrong." 

            She started to respond but something sharp poked into the bottom of her thigh, piercing through her jeans. Lifting up her leg, she pulled a pencil from beneath her. She was about to toss it aside when she noticed the name engraved onto the side. _Willow. But… how could this have gotten here? It's impossible. She was never in this car. And she hasn't messed with pencils for years._

Flipping on the dome light, she held up the pencil, examining it. "Speaking of wrong… look. It's Willow's, or it was, a long time ago. She had personalized pencils when she was learning to levitate them magically." 

He tilted his head, surprised. "You bring it along for a reason?"  
  


"I didn't bring it along at all. But… weird. It was in my dream tonight. She levitated it and made it spin." Passing the pencil to Spike to inspect, she bit her lip, remembering the dream. "It was the same nightmare I've had ever since that night. A replay of what happened. First Xander's death, then the cemetery… every night before tonight, it was the same. Three hundred and seventy nights of an exact replay. The only different parts were…" She rubbed her hands over her eyes, trying to remember.

            He handed the pencil back to her. "It's a pencil. Nothing evil about it. You're sure it's the same one?"

"Of course it is. What, you think I pack them around? No. In the dream, she kept saying she needed something from me. That was strange. The dream is always the same. Why would it be different tonight?" Tapping the pencil on the steering wheel, she said, "And what's with the evil ghost pencil from the beyond?"

"I said, not evil." He turned back to the window, appearing to lose interest, but Buffy could see the fine tremble of his frame. He'd overtaxed himself, spoken too much, too soon. _I shouldn't have gotten into it with him… all that emotional stuff, it's so incredibly difficult. I should let him rest… but I need him. This is Willow's pencil. I know it is. It's gotta be a sign. And evil or not, something's up. _

She shuddered, rubbing her fingertip over the raised words on the pencil. "Yeah, well, it didn't stick you in the leg. And besides, I would've noticed if I'd been sitting on it a while. It couldn't have been there long. Why would it just appear?"

"Hard to figure those evil ghost pencils. Wacky little buggers." His head perked up. "There's someone coming."

Buffy looked out Spike's window and for a second, her nervousness lifted. She grinned. "We'll deal with the pencil in a minute. Right now, come out and meet Old Dan."

He raised an eyebrow at her, looking so much like _her_ Spike that she couldn't help but touch his hand. "He goes by Old Dan?"

"Yeah, _Spike._ That a problem for you?" She squeezed his hand, encouraged when he didn't pull away. "C'mon."

She reached for the door handle but Old Dan got there first. He flung open her door and pulled her out into his hug. "Dan," she burbled into his shoulder, teary at his affectionate greeting. "Air. Lungs. Please."  
  


"Sorry, dear," he said, setting her down. He ran his stubby fingers through the hair that ringed his bald head. "I'm just so happy you're here. It's been so long- look how you've grown! It's wonderful that you've come back. Your grandmother would be so thrilled to see you back here. You know that."

            "Yeah. I… I miss her. And I'm so sorry for what happened. Mom never could understand how it was wrong to throw you out of the house when Granny died." Dropping her gaze, she rested a hand on the hood of the car. "You know that mom died?"  
  


            "I did hear that, yes. Sorry for your loss, Buffy. But you're here now, and looking all grown up. Wouldn't Joycie be proud of you!"

            "I'm here. And my- my friend, too." She gestured into the car, and Old Dan waved at Spike, who didn't acknowledge him. "He's had some… health problems. I thought this place would be good for him."

            "Your friend Mr. Giles filled me in. I'll do whatever I can to help out you and Spike, but you must see what a wreck the old home is. It'd take a crew of men to fix it up. You're a strong girl, I can see that, but you're on the puny end of things. And from the looks of him, Spike won't be much help anytime soon. Cancer, was it? He's thin as a rail. Looks like death itself."

            "N-no. Not death. Really. A-and not cancer, but… he's pretty sick. He'll get better soon though. He just needs time. Anyway, I can work. I'm stronger than I look." Noticing something in Dan's hand, she wrinkled her forehead. "What's that?"  
  


            He held out his palm, revealing a pencil. "Oh, just a bit of garbage I found in the hayloft. These teenagers come around, drinking and god-knows-what else. They come to scare themselves with ghost stories, then leave behind all sorts of junk. Beer cans, mostly. I try to collect up the trash. Annie would have a flipping fit if she knew what those kids were up to in her barn." Squinting down at the pencil, he said, "Guess this one belonged to a 'Willow'. Huh. Don't know any Willow. Ah, well. More garbage for the heap." 

Snatching the pencil from his hand, Buffy read the monogrammed name for herself. "Spike. Look at this. It's just like…" She ducked her head into the car, but the pencil they'd been discussing wasn't on the dashboard where she'd left it. Shocked, she gaped at him. "Did you move the pencil?"

He only grunted at her, his eyes squeezed shut. On his knees, his fingers drummed in a quick tempo, revealing his distress. 

Taking deep, gulping breaths, Buffy forced herself to stay calm. "Spike. Okay. You need to rest. Go on, put the seat back. I'll…" Holding the pencil up to the light, she frowned. _It's the same pencil. But how did it get from the dashboard to the barn? _"I'll figure this out."

"What's the matter?" Old Dan gave her a quizzical look as she climbed out of the car. "You're pale."

            "Did the- the kids leave anything else in the hayloft?" She tried to look casual, not wanting to worry him, but twisted the pencil nervously in her hands. "Anything at all?"

            "Well, yes." Dan dug around in his breast pocket. "I put it in here. Darned arthritis. Didn't trust myself not to drop it, and mark my words, some young girl is searching all over for this. Ah, here." He pulled out a long, gold chain and handed it to her. "Pretty, eh?"

            "Very," Buffy whispered, rubbing her thumb over the cross that hung from the chain. It was small enough to be hidden under the collar of most shirts, which was why its owner had purchased it. _Hello, Jewish. You think my dad would let me wear a cross?_ It was Willow's cross, the one Buffy had last seen in the sarcophagus, lying on a bed of Willow's remains. She'd brought it along, tucked inside her suitcase along with Dawn's favorite earrings, Xander's ring, and one of Giles' cufflinks. When she'd checked her case the night before, all the keepsakes were together in their pocket, but… Bringing the cross to her lips, she kissed it lightly. The metal felt cold against her lips. "Dan… I think those kids were right. We do have a ghost. A real one." 


	4. Chapter 4

All Spike could see was the sun on her hair. Curled up against the door, he rested his head against the window, every piece of himself focused on the girl kneeling atop the roof of the farmhouse, the tool belt around her waist accentuating her thinness. Spike touched his own protruding ribs, watching her bend for a closer look at the roof, watching her slender legs stand and stretch, watching the shine of her skin, of her hair, _watching_ her, always watching her, despite all his bitterness and misgivings, still he watched. He could not look away.

Though he abhorred this need in himself- the need to _know_ her- the call of her presence rang inside of him, a beacon too strong to deny. Even from inside the car he felt as if the heat of her skin was upon him and he could not help but revel in that, after so many nights of cold solitude. He'd found his anger a poor weapon against the magnetic draw: _Buffy_, standing in the sunshine, the gold fire of her hair a halo surrounding her with light. And then, with a blink, she was gone and he shivered, startled by the sudden cold. _Why does she hold my warmth inside herself? Why can I find none in my own skin?_ Pressing his forehead against the foil-covered glass, he waited.

Another blink and she reappeared, a hammer in one hand, a fistful of nails in the other. He peeled back the foil a bit farther, enlarging his peephole enough to see the whole of her, see the way the sun flashed and flicked behind her silhouette as she raised the hammer above her head and swung it down, then again, the repetition powerful and fluid and lovely. 

He swallowed hard, feeling suddenly faint. _I don't want this. These feelings, this… this sodding insatiable craving for her…this was supposed to end, dammit. All of it, all the need for her… I killed it, bore it down inside myself, threw it away with all the rest- with all the world- and then, what did she do? Broke down the spell, tore through the door and dragged me back through all the muck. And still, here I sit, such a ponce, glued to her like she's water in the desert._ He snorted mockingly at himself. _Water? No. A mirage, more like.  _

From his safe place inside the car, parked beneath the shade of a oak tree, from behind the shield of reflective aluminum, he continued to study her, feeling more than a bit like an intruder. She was repairing the roof, patching up worn places and holes, making the farmhouse habitable while she waited for Willow's ghost to make its next move. She'd told him so before leaving him to sleep hours before. 

Even from across the yard he could see the sweat beaded on her forehead. The tense and tired set of her shoulders told him that her muscles were aching from the long, uninterrupted exertion. _Stupid girl. She should stop, take a break. Not like the work can't wait. Wouldn't kill her to sleep in the car another night. Exhaustion's catching up to her, that and the stress of ghost pencils and jewelry from the beyond. Too worried about Red and about me to realize she's falling apart at the seams. She'll make a stupid mistake if she doesn't rest. Hurt herself,. Whack her thumb with the hammer or worse, being that high up and in the hot sun, no water. Dehydration hits and she'll be dizzy, could fall... _

He traced the pleats in the foil, his fingers spidering out wide over Buffy's image. _Girl could fall and lay there broken, bleeding, too damaged to call for help and I wouldn't be able to do a bloody thing. Sun's up, and she's out in the open. She could die out there, alone, and I'd still be sitting here, powerless, watching her die. Helpless._

As if hearing his thoughts, she dropped the hammer and turned around to face the car. Stretching her arms above her head, she yawned. Spike drew back away from the window, curling up on the seat and closing his eyes. _Sleep, you git,_ he told himself, winding his hands in the blanket spread across his lap and pulling it up around his shoulders. _She's the Slayer, she can take care of herself. 'Sides, you shouldn't care. Don't want to be here. Didn't ask to come, didn't tell her to fix you up a hideaway when she took away the old one that was perfectly fine, perfectly… punishing. Didn't want her to sully herself looking after a thing too evil to be borne. But here she is, being all fine and virtuous, working herself into exhaustion, all to patch up the guilt of last year, and far more of it than is her fair share _

Groaning, he rolled over. The fabric of the Honda's seat was scratchy against his cheek. _I didn't **want **this! Only one thing I asked of her- to leave me alone- and the bitch couldn't manage it, not even when she should have known, I did it partly for her. Took her witch in with me, burned myself to bloody hell in the process. And still the bitch doesn't know, doesn't understand…but how could she? She doesn't know.  _

The sound of footsteps silenced his thoughts. He waited a beat, hoping she'd pass by and leave him alone, but instead she paused by the other side of the door. Her presence was solid and looming even though he could sense her tentativeness. _She's more unsure of herself than I've ever seen her. Girl doesn't know whether to leave me to myself or put me through her version of therapy for the recently evil. I'll say this for her, she's trying. She wants to make things right. But she doesn't know-- _

"Spike? You awake?"

"No," he muttered, flapping the blanket over his head. He wasn't sure she heard him, but he'd be damned if he repeated himself. _Damned. I am, that. Anyway, she'll go away if she thinks I'm asleep and then I can get back to…_He gritted his teeth, disgusted with himself. _Brooding. _

"Spike?" 

She walked around the car. Spike could hear her circling and realized she must be looking for a gap in the foil large enough to see him through. She wouldn't open the door, he knew. The sun was still high enough to be a danger to him and she would be mindful of that. Thoughts of the sun combined with the darkness underneath the blanket made him recognize how sleepy he actually was. He shifted his legs into a more comfortable position, careful not to move enough to rock the car. 

"Fine, don't answer," she said, frustration weighing down her words. He flipped a fold of blanket away from his eyes and saw the outline of her hand, black against the silver-gray window. With a shaking finger he touched the shape of her palm, envisioning its creases, the life and love lines he remembered better than he'd like. 

She sighed, or maybe he only imaged she did, but the crunching noise of her footsteps as she walked away from him was undeniably real. _Good night, goldilocks,_ he thought fleetingly, flopping his head back into the cushion. He was tired, so tired suddenly, and he wondered if the days of driving non-stop from Sunnydale to the farm in a loaded silence had caught up with him. _Cracked days, with her too nervous even to babble and me… nothing I had to say would've pleased her. Not then, not now. Not ever. Better to sleep, then. Better to stay quiet._

Her voice shouting back to him was the last thing he heard. "I'll be back for you at sunset, and you'd better be ready to talk!"

_Pet, I'll never be ready to tell you what you're wanting to hear._

 *****

            The holes in the roof were patched over solidly, if crookedly. Hammer in hand, Buffy gazed up from the front yard with pride. _Xander would be proud,_ she thought, and bit down on her lip, puzzled by the feelings his name did not bring. _Guess that's what healing is. One day his name makes me teary, the next, nothing._

            She left the hammer on the edge of the porch and picked up her suitcase from the pile of things she'd brought from Sunnydale. She had waited to bring them inside until the place was aired out a little. There wasn't much: one suitcase for her clothes and weapons, another for Giles' loaner clothes for Spike, and the cooler full of blood packets. They wouldn't stay fresh too much longer, she realized. Setting her suitcase back down, she took the cooler inside the farmhouse.****

            The kitchen wasn't the cleanest, but Buffy had swept the floor and dusted off the long countertop and the high, wooden cupboards above. She hefted the cooler onto the counter and began pulling out packets and counting them. _Four, five, six… maybe two dozen. That's a lotta waste. There are starving vampires in Africa, you know. _

            "Not as starved as your vampire was, Buffy."

            She froze as the cold words slapped her in the back. The cross in her jeans pocket- _Willow's cross_- seemed to grow heavier. _I know that voice, I know who that is, but how can I, how can I…_ Gulping down her fear, she inhaled a slow, calming breath. When she was sure her voice would be steady, called out without turning around. "Willow?"

            A icy gust of air hit her from behind. It blew her hair over her eyes and slammed her against the counter. Holding tight to her courage, Buffy said, "I know it's you, Will. I found your pencil and your cross. Talk to me. You never skimped on the words before. You've got my attention; I'm listening. Tell me what you want."

            The wind grew stronger, and colder. It picked up dust and dirt clumps from the floor. Small pieces of wood and paper and other things Buffy could not identify whirled around her, some sharp as they hit her. It occurred to her that running away might be the way to go, but the wind cut her off. In an instant, it intensified into a storm so powerful, Buffy's feet were swept out from under her. 

            Clinging to the edge of the counter with a desperate grip, Buffy spat out a mouthful of hair and blinked hard. She tried to keep her eyes open, her ears throbbing at the howling of wind and crashing of debris. 

"Willow!" she shrieked as her fingers slid on the slick linoleum. "Why are you doing this! Haven't you hurt me enough!"

            The ghost laughed. "Buffy, you don't understand. You don't get it." 

            Something solid hit her in the side. _The cooler_, she realized. Then came a wet splash over her back. A tangy, metallic smell arose. She screamed as something slapped her across the back of the head, and more wetness ran down her body. Sensations faded into each other as the wind gusted in a spiral, propelling objects against her so fast they were formless, insensible. 

            Fear twisted in her stomach, tasting bitter as it rose up her throat. _Something's happening, something's happening, _she thought, her grip nearing the edge of the counter. _Something's happening, and I can't see, I can't breathe, I can't think…_ A large object struck her squarely on the head and with the pain came darkness.

            The hardness of the wood beneath her prone body was the next thing she felt. She couldn't tell how long she'd been out for, but the sun had set. Rising gingerly to her knees, she touched the lump on her temple, wincing. Her blood-soaked shirt and jeans made squishing sounds as she stood. Holding her hands out away from her body, she glared into the empty void of the house and growled, "Next time you come, you're gonna be one dead ghost. I mean… deader ghost. Umm, I mean…" She leaned heavily against the wall, sighing. "I mean, I don't want to do this anymore, Will."  

*****

            _It was a dream, only a dream. _

Spike knew that, and yet… and yet the firmness of Buffy's arms in his hands felt so real, the brush of her hair against his face, and the taste of her blood running over his tongue as he drank from her so deeply… it was all real, far too real. He willed himself to awaken but could no more break free of the dream than he could have broken Willow's magical grip inside his head that night.

            Pain gnawed inside his skull. Behind him, Willow laughed. She was talking, as was Buffy, but he couldn't understand their words. His whole reality consisted of nothing but Buffy's blood, Buffy's skin, and beyond that, the deep regret and fury in his heart, and Willow's rape of his mind. 

            Silent screams surged up inside him, muffled by the deafening drone of Willow's magic. He wanted to tell Buffy to throw him off and run, but the crushing weight of the spell numbed his throat, numbed everything except what he wished it to: the pain, the fear, the knowledge that Buffy was dying and that he, who had fought for a soul so he'd never harm her again, was killing her.   

            Coldness filled him, bones and muscle, and he knew something in him was dying. Something that had survived his turning, survived the wretched inauguration into vampire life, survived his time in a wheelchair, survived Dru… he thought it might be his humanity. It curled down like a fetus, burying itself to deeply to be recovered.

            And Willow loved knowing that. She read it in his thoughts and he could feel the heat of her at his back, in his thoughts, his very cells, and when she allowed him to close his eyes from the fading heat of Buffy's white neck, he shamed himself with the rush of gratitude he felt. 

            Then came a pressure on his back, gentle but persistent. Buffy's hands, he realized, and would have cried if Willow would've let him, but she didn't. She was talking again and this time he made an effort to listen…something about making it up to him? She wanted to help him? The words made no sense, but he clung to them. If she wanted to help him, perhaps she'd let him go, let Buffy live. 'Cause how else could she help? What else could possibly matter if Buffy died with his fangs in her neck?

            Nothing. And that's what he felt until the screaming started. First a man's low battle cry, and then the shriek of a woman, high pitched and familiar. It echoed off the walls of his mind and broke the hold of Willow's spell with such suddenness, he howled in pain. Collapsing on top of Buffy, he felt his human face returning. _The witch's scream, not Buffy's. Not Buffy's._

            Sound came back gradually. He heard a struggle being fought, but it was behind him and Buffy was below, and his only concern. Rolling off of her, he stroked her pale cheek, leaving behind a smear of blood. "Pet?" he whispered, smacking her lightly. "You're alive, I know you are. Didn't take enough to kill you, no matter what the witch wanted, I…"

            Her eyes opened and met his, their compassion startling him. Of all the looks she'd given him over the years, tenderness had never been among them. He reveled in it, brief as it was, for after a moment her eyes skipped over his shoulder and widened with panic. 

            "Giles!" She lurched forward on the muddy ground, too weak to stand. "God, what are you doing!"  
  


            Spike turned and saw the Watcher holding off the Witch with a long, thick wooden torch, lit with a vigorous flame. Willow was sprawled on the ground, her clothes smoking where Giles had struck her with the last of his magic. "What I must," he said, never looking away from Willow's furious stare.  

            "Daddy's got balls," Willow sputtered. She wiped blood from her mouth with the back of her hand. "What's next? That was it for you. You're running on empty. Don't think you can stop me with that little match. You knocked me down but I've still got a tricks up my sleeve." Pursing her lips, she started to blow, her mouth glowing with magic.

            Giles thrust the torch forward. It hit her squarely on the chin, knocking her backwards. "Willow, you must stop." His face was lined with dread but, Spike thought, carefully composed in an effort to keep his obvious horror to himself. "I don't want to harm you, but I will if I must."

            "You'd…" She broke off, coughing. "You'd hurt me? Kill me? I thought I was your girl, Giles. Your daughter. You'd kill your own daughter?"  
  


            "You are no child of mine," Giles said. A dangerous light flashed out of his eyes; not magic, but rage. Spike stood up, ignoring the shaking of his legs. He inched closer to the Watcher. Giles choked his hands up higher on the torch. "Willow, this.. this is no longer revenge, don't you see that? The score has been settled. You're only hurting yourself."

            Not true, Spike thought, but kept his mouth shut. He glanced down at Buffy who was watching her friends with terror. Blood gushed down the side of her neck, soaking her shirt. "Pressure on that, luv," he whispered, pointing to her neck.

            Her shaking fingers found the wound. The feel of blood brought her eyes back into focus. "Of-of course," she stuttered, covering it with her palm. She was in shock, and no wonder. Spike pulled off his tee-shirt and tossed it to her. "Thanks," she said, using it as a compress. 

            "How sweet," Willow chortled, jumping to her feet. "Aren't they sweet Giles? Remember when they were gonna get married? That was my wish then, my 'will-be-done'. Guess they have my magic to thank for all the wild monkey crypt sex."

            Giles' shoulders twitched. "You'll not get a rise out of me with that, Willow. Not after everything else you've done tonight. And Buffy's beyond arguing at the moment."

            "But I'm not." Spike moved to Giles' side, counting on the Watcher's boundless composure to keep him from a punch in the face. "And Red, you and I…. we're far from through."

            "Spike," Giles growled, "Either act helpful or leave." 

            Spike heard the message beneath Giles' words- don't piss off the apocalyptically-minded uber-power witch, please- but the anger was alive in him and he could not help himself. "This is gonna end one way or another, Watcher, and if I were you, I'd chose the grand finale where Buffy gets to live."

            Giles' eyes were shuttered as he watched Willow gaze at them with predatory interest. "No. Willow is still…"

            "What, your friend? Bullocks." Throwing out his arm, he pointed at the Witch and shouted, "Willow is dead! But Buffy's still alive."

            "Not for long, Spikey," Willow said. A drunken smile grew on her face. "I can feel my legs again. The power's coming back and soon none of you will be able to stop me."

            "Don't hurt them." Buffy's voice was weak, unrecognizable. _Defeated, but still trying to save the day. That's my girl._ "Please, Will. Don't hurt them anymore."

It made Willow laugh. "Hurt's all that's coming, Buffy." Cocking her head reflectively, she added, "Except to Spike. He's been hurt enough by you, don't you think?"

"What's your plan, Red?" Spike asked. He clapped his hands together. "Whatever it is, let's get on with it. I'm ready." _That's right. Get her away from Buffy, get her distracted, and end this bloody game._

Willow closed her eyes, breathing deeply. "Got just enough left in me, I think. Here's a gift for you, Spike. A gift for all the people Buffy made suffer. I'll give you a place where you'll be safe from her." 

Buffy and Giles exchanged a look of confusion. Stepping forward, his jaw clenched, Giles said, "No more magic, Willow. No more." 

"Didn't you hear? Willow is dead." The Witch waved a hand at the crypt, and at her incantation, the spell enveloped the crypt in a watery-looking bubble, a sort of bag of waters. Proud of herself, she giggled. "Sanctuary of the damned. Pretty, isn't it? All the blue water. He'll live out his immortality trapped there, safe as houses. He won't be able to hurt anyone, and no one, Buffy, _not even you_ will be to hurt him." She nodded her head towards Spike. "Step on in. The water's warm. It will seal behind you."

"She really expects him to go in there?" Buffy coughed, bracing both hands in front of her in the grass. "No way. No."

Shooting to her feet, her strength back, Willow said, "Better to live alone than be your whipping boy. You wanta hurt everyone who loves you- no more, Buffy. I'm taking that from you. I'm taking _him_ from you. Now you'll know how it feels." 

"Willow…" Giles' body jerked as Willow lashed out at him with a stream of crackling energy. It enveloped him, holding him as he convulsed in pain. Blood ran from his forehead, pooled at the corners of his eyes, but he maintained his grip on the torch, clinging to it. Bowing her head against her knees, Buffy let out a long, low moan. 

"Enough yet? " Giles fell to the ground and Willow gave him a wave. "Hello, I'm back again. No more magicks to tie me up with, huh?"

"No more," he gasped, dragging himself to his knees. He clutched the torch with both hands. 

"You first, then," she said, "Then you, Buffy. And I see little Dawnie over there hiding under the bushes. She'll have to wait her turn though." Tipping her chin back, she leered into Giles' face. Her eyes were black and shiny with power. Blue energy crackled at her fingertips. "Daddy's been asking for it."

"Giles!" Buffy dropped Spike's shirt from her neck and staggering to her feet. She made it three steps before toppling back down. "God, Giles, run!"

He shook his head, raising the torch. "This ends here."

_Not that way, though. We're ending this, we're ending it for good. _Spike pulled his flask from his back pocket and opened it with a quick movement. "You ready, Watcher?" Without waiting for a response, he tipped the flask forward and doused Willow with its contents.

Everyone froze in place, awareness of what was about to occur horrifying them. Even Willow stood still, her red hair darkening with wetness. She gaped down at the alcohol covering her body. Raising her arms out, she dropped her head back and closed her eyes. "Go on," she said. "Go on, Giles. End this. Please."

Buffy cried out, but no one looked at her. All eyes were on Willow, posed as if crucified and waiting for the final blow. 

With a gasping sob, Giles tipped the torch down and caught the center of Willow's shirt on fire. The ignition was immediate; the heat intense. Flinging the torch away and falling to his knees, Giles held his hands up towards Willow. "I'm… I'm… oh, Willow…" he stuttered, his voice broken. He pushed his hands over his face.

Willow did not move or even scream as the flames engulfed her. She simply stood and watched the stars. The only sounds were the blazing of the fire and the sobs of those who loved her. 

Buffy crawled to him and he wrapped his arms around her, stoic-faced. Knowledge of what was to come nipped at him but Buffy's tears on his neck were current and hot, and he felt, finally, a huge ache carve itself out of his chest. _I'm sorry, Red. So sorry for you._ He stroked Buffy's hair, the light of the fire stinging his eyes.  

They leaned together, covered in mud, and cried quietly as they watched Willow burn in an eerie silence. 

            *****

            "Spike…" Buffy opened the back door of the Honda in a quick jerk and grabbed his shoulder. "Spike, wake up."

            "What…what's wrong," he slurred, jolting awake with a gasp. Scrubbing his face with his hands, he squinted up at her. "You're all wet."

            She pulled her sticky shirt away from her body, grimacing at the slurping sound it made as the fabric came off her skin. "Look closer. Smell anything food-like?"

            "Blood?" Jumping out of the car, he held her by the elbows and looked her over, concern overpowering his grogginess. "You're hurt? I knew it, I knew something would happen… so much blood, where's it coming from?" Spinning her around, he checked her back. "Where's the wound?"

            She tried not to smile. It wasn't funny, really, but for a second she let herself forget about the ghost and lingered on the care with which he examined her, on the tempered bruskness of his hands. _He cares. He still cares about me, no matter how mad he is, he cares. _"Umm, Spike…"

            Releasing her, he leaned against the side of the car, sticking his hands in his pockets as if restraining them. "You're grinning like a loon. Does that mean you're fine?"

             "I'm fine. Freaked, but fine. It's not my blood. I meant it when I said I smelled like food." 

            "The blood from the cooler?" He blushed as his stomach growled. "My blood?"

            "Don't worry, there's enough left to last you the night and I'll get more tomorrow. Or you could just suck it off my clothes. Ghost Willow turned on the mystical hurricane machine and everything in the house got all blow around. It was crazy, beyond crazy, really. Some of the packets burst open." Cautiously touching the bruised lump on her temple, she said, "I kept trying to get her to talk to me, but the cooler bashed me in the head. That's the last thing I remember."

            "Sounds like she's the same ole witch to me," Spike said and there was something in his voice, something strange that turned the words into a subtle question.

            _Can't deal with this now. Whatever's going on in his head, it's gotta wait. _"Maybe." Buffy shrugged. "I dunno."

            "You _dunno_? What is there about this that confuses you? She attacked you, tried to kill you…" And again, despite the meaning of his words, the questioning tone was there. 

_Does he want me to say it wasn't Willow? Is that what he wants? But I'm tired and I'm filthy and I can't… I just can't right now. _"It wasn't like that. I mean, yeah, big scary ghost wind, and I got hurt, but…. like I said, I don't know. Something about this feels off to me. Way off. Why would she be trying to communicate if she's all homicidal? Wouldn't she skip the intimidating part and go straight to the killing?"

            "She didn't before."

            "But see, that's kinda my point. She's done the fear thing. Why would she go back to that? Wouldn't she be trying to do what she couldn't before? The only thing I've gotten out of her so far is that she wants to tell me something and that I'm apparently a big idiot because I'm not getting it."  
  


            "S'not like she's being overly clear, pet. Wind, pencils… come on, you think she'd blurt it out."

            "Ghosts are different. We dealt with them before, back at the high school." She rolled her eyes. "They love their metaphors."

             "What if…" He coughed, a false cough made to buy him time. She could almost see the wheels of his mind whirling as he groped inside himself for whatever words he had to tell her. _This has got to be bad. _Coughing again, he said, "Buffy, we've got to talk. I have to tell you…"

_Not yet. Not yet. I need time to get my head back together. _The blood on her shirt was drying. It made her skin itch. Undoing the buttons, she wrinkled her nose. "I'm gonna go wash up. There's a pond behind the barn that's swimmable. You coming?"

"Buffy. You wanted to know." 

"I do. Not now though. I can't stand being the human scab. Come on whenever you're ready. I've got soap and stuff."

            He watched her walk across the yard. Even gory and soiled, he was struck by her beauty and could not look away. 


	5. Chapter 5

_He's not coming._

Buffy paused at the edge of the pond, the words nagging at her mind. Shifting anxiously, she tugged at the hem of her swimming suit. Bits of dried blood flaked off her fingers onto the sleek, black material. She disregarded them and walked into the water, shivering at the coolness. Mud squished pleasantly between her toes. Sinking down to submerge herself to shoulder-level, she released a long, jagged breath and let the water work at relaxing her knotted muscles. Determined to put all things Slayer-related out of her head, she found herself left with one persisting thought. 

_He's not coming. _

Not like that was a big surprise. He'd done nothing but avoid her since waking up. In the two days they'd been at the farm, she could remember him speaking to her exactly twice, and both times fell after ghost witch visits. _That's what it takes to make him talk to me? _An idea was growing inside her, creating a solid, cold dread as it gained shape. _Maybe Giles was right. Maybe Spike is too far gone to…care._ Shutting her eyes, she smothered the fear, evoking the edges of her calm and holding to them tightly. This was a time to relax and recoup, to regain her equilibrium. Worry and fear had been her constant companions for far too long; she wanted to be at peace here in the home of her childhood. She wanted to rest. Even so, Giles' words stayed with her. _But Buffy, there's nothing guaranteeing Spike's soul will make him into the man you want._

_But he does care. He does. _Her shoulders tingled as she remembered the pressure of his hands on them. _He was so worried when he thought I was bleeding. That's some big caring right there. Some big… Spike. It was Spike again. More or less. Okay, emphasis on the less but still… Spike. _Relief lightened her, made her feel young. _It doesn't matter if he's never the Spike he was. There was tons of room for improvement. Just as long as he's not crazy, and not dusty, and not… hating me. As long as we can be… friends. Friends would be good. He doesn't need to love me like he did before. No matter how much of a happy that would be. _Groaning, she made herself skip back a thought or two. _Concentrate on the 'Spike's okay' part. There's time for the rest later._

"It's that simple," she said to the stars. "Make him okay now, worry about the rest later." _He cares. He was so worried. His eyes… they got so tender… _Holding the image of him in her mind, she focused on it and relaxed into the pleasure it brought her. 

Floating on her back, she let her eyes fall closed, let the water take her where it would. Deep inside, a peace began to grow. _His eyes. And his hands. The way they shook, so hard, but held me. They held me. _

She cupped hands around the full warmth of her breasts, moved them down to stroke her firm belly, to hold the slender strength of her hips, and she smiled, relieved. She could feel her body again, as she hadn't been able to since that night. Parts of her that had died alongside her friends were coming back to life. As worried as she was about Spike and as scared and confused as Willow's reappearance made her, she felt awake in a way she hadn't for far too long. _I almost can't believe it but I feel like **me** again. What do you know? There's life in them there hills,_ Buffy giggled at herself. She kicked one foot out of the water. Water dribbled back over her, splashing in droplets. Through the beads of water she saw Spike standing at the pond's edge.

She sank under the water, trusting it to conceal her nakedness. "Hey! Come on in, the water's nice!"

Slowly, Spike yanked his shirt over his head. Buffy flicked her eyes away from the sight of his thinness but she couldn't miss the way his creamy skin seemed to glow in the moonlight. As his hands went to the button of his jeans, she faced away entirely. _It's not that I wanta look. Or that I shouldn't. I mean, been there, seen that. But if I make him run away now, when he's finally coming to me… how many chances does one person get? How many new starts can Spike and I possibly make? This must be the last. I can't screw up._

She heard him enter the water. Tiny waves came off his body and lapped at her shoulders as he swam to her. Treading water, she turned and smiled. "Warm in here, huh? The sun was hot today. I thought I'd die of heat stroke by noon."

__

"I know," he said, and she tilted her head, giving him a wide-eyed look of curiosity. He moved backwards a few feet, his mouth twisting with an emotion she couldn't place. _Not good though. There's more than one thing he doesn't want me to know._ He back-peddled with little finesse. "Not know in the sense of… I mean, I was asleep… wasn't watching you. At all." 

"Spike. It's okay, whatever you were doing. It sounded funny, that's all." She floated closer to him, erasing the distance he'd created between their bodies. "You look better. Less…. I mean, more… more… something. Better."

"I am. Stronger. It helped…" His eyes seemed stuck to her mouth. She sucked in her lower lip, then let it slid out from inside her mouth slowly. 

_I'm not teasing him. It's a test, that's all. Just a test. _"What helped?" She traced the curve of her lip with the tip of her tongue. Watching him stare at her made things tense inside her; she blushed as she found her fingers spread wide on her stomach and moving upwards, as if they were his. _Oh, oh no. This is… what am I doing? Okay, Buffy, time to be smart. We've got a sick vampire to heal, not to mention a ghost to deal with, and if you keep up with the uber-slut routine, you're gonna chase him away and get yourself all distracted which never leads to good. _

Pulling her hands off her body, she brought them up out of the water. She caressed the surface, making small waves, trying to distract herself from the need that grew in her. _Doesn't matter if I want him. Doesn't matter if kissing him and touching him would get around all the conversations we need to have before we can be okay with each other. Doesn't matter, 'cause that wouldn't be fair. I could grab him, hold him, so easily. It would be so simple to rub up against all that wet, white skin and let everything else slip away… but, nope. We so can't do that. Not if we want to do things right this time. Not if we want to… _

Her fingers clenched as she realized she didn't have a clue what he wanted. _Hence the conversation-having we need to… have. _She took a deep breath and relaxed her hands. _What was I saying to him?_ "Oh! The farm? It's kind of a healing sort of place. That's… that's why I brought you here. Healing." _Healing. Not… anything else. Especially nothing in the horizontal direction. _She smiled, trying to tell him things were fine, normal. _Nope, I'm not lusting. I'm not. Really._

Arching one eyebrow in bewilderment, Spike said, "It was the blood. Hunger slows down every bit of a body. Muscles stop moving, brain stops functioning… but I can think now. Better'n before, at least." Flicking his fingers to spray Buffy with water, he kept a safe distance between them but something about him had changed and she could see it. _He's splashing me. He's sharing things with me. He…_

"You don't hate me anymore." _Crap! I didn't mean to say that! _Clapping a hand over her mouth, she shook her head. "No, no, sorry. We don't have to talk about that. I didn't mean to…. It just came out."

He cocked his head to the side. His eyes on her face were unrelenting. She let her hand fall from her mouth but couldn't stop the flush from growing on her cheeks. Ignoring the apprehension that made her heart feel fluttery, she swam a pace towards him. In response he swam backwards, effectively maintaining the gap that separated them as if he didn't know his eyes crossed it even as the rest of his body held back. _The way he's watching me… like he's starving… _She shivered but stopped, letting him have his space. A beat passed, then another, long and… _and hot. All I can feel from him is heat. _

"I don't hate you." His shoulders loosened up a fraction. "Mind, I've not forgiven you for breaking into the Sanctuary but my brain's working a bit better now and it's true I'm not unhappy to be… myself again."

The relief she felt was so strong, it sent her reeling. She let herself sink beneath the water and opened her eyes, taking in the blurry underwater world until her lungs began to twinge. Surfacing hard, she flung back her head. Water flew from her hair and she laughed out loud. _It can't be all bad. He doesn't hate me. He's not back all the way… I mean that's a big obvious- look at him, he's skin and bone, but he doesn't hate me and I can help him now. I can…_

Laughing again, she saw he was moving towards her through the water, the expression on his face…. Rapt, she thought. _Captured. But not in a black-magickey kind of way. Because we don't do that, Spike and I. We're… we're the good guys. He and I both, together. _

Their eyes met and held. Muscles low in her belly began to tighten and tingle. She knew now that it was she who'd been captured, captivated by the need so evident in him, the need for her, even after all they'd put each other through. The power of her own need made her tremble. She held her hands out to him, palms up, just under the water's surface. 

He stopped at her fingertips and studied the way her palms seemed to hold the surface of the pond in silvery puddles on their centers. With a single finger, he traced a path across one. His lips turned up in an odd smile. Shuddering at the contact, Buffy saw he was tracing her life line. Over and over, he followed it, back and forth from the start symbolizing her birth to the end predicting her death. Back and forth, he seemed to immortalize her.

His eyes were shimmering surfaces of reflected moonlight. Buffy almost didn't dare to meet them but when she did, she found herself staggered by the emotions that churned so quickly there. _He's afraid of me_. 

Her hands jerked away from him and she shut her eyes tightly, afraid to see his reaction. "It's no good, is it."

"No." 

The silence that fell between them weighed on her. She felt her limbs grow wooden, her blood thicken, and when she opened her eyes, they were heavy, encumbered with her own reluctance. _It's time. No more hiding. _"We should talk."

"You sounded much more eager before, when I was sleeping in the car. I heard you." 

"That was… before." _Before I knew you would survive. Before I knew you didn't hate me. Before I realized that I have a future, and that you could be a part of it._

"Where would you like me to start?" His voice was filled with so much sadness, so much weariness, but he pulled up the edges up his mouth in a pseudo-smile. "With the Sanctuary?"

"No." _I don't want to know this. I don't. But I have to. _ "Before. When we were watching Willow… when she was on fire… how did you know what she'd do?"

"Wasn't hard. The witch was on fire but she still had her feet under her. You and Giles were only a few steps away. When he set her on fire, he gave her a weapon. Simple as that. You'd have figured it out yourself, if you hadn't been in shock and…" His hand went to his neck of its own accord, to the place where, on Buffy, the scars of his fangs marred the skin. 

Quickly, before he could apologize, Buffy said, "So, you knew she was going to…"

"It was all she had left. I could see it in her eyes. She would have thrown herself on top of the two of you and clung on tight until you both were burned beyond…" Clearing his throat, he continued. "She was going for the pain more than the kill."

A throbbing sensation radiated up Buffy's arms. She looked down at her hands, at the grooves on her palm where her fingernails had bitten into the skin. _This is hard times a million. This is miserable. This is necessary. Get through it. _"You tackled her. That had to hurt."

"Didn't think, just did it." He cuffed the surface of the water with his palm, sending ripples out away from them. "Couldn't let her hurt you." 

"I… I know." _God, I know. I remember. Looking up at Willow, I was so weak, which was so very, very weird, but he was there, he was holding her, holding onto the fire and burning. _"It hurt you, didn't it?"

With a crooked smile, Spike said, "Not as much then as it did later."

"The… the starving? That must've been… bad." 

"Bad? Yes, Slayer, starving for a year was… bad. That's not all though. Not all by a long shot." He cast his eyes upwards as if looking for something. 

_Answers. He's looking for something to tell me. Whatever it is he's wanting to avoid, it's bad. _"Tell me. Don't hold back. I… I need to know."

He would not meet her eyes. The words tumbled out of him towards the night sky, choked and wet and soaked with regret. "The Sanctuary spell created a bubble of water around my crypt. When I went through… you remember this part? You were watching?"

Bowing her head, Buffy remembered. Not that night- she seldom let herself remember the way it had felt, kneeling beside Giles, watching her lover and her best friend burn. Instead, she remembered what she'd told Dawn many months later, in a rare moment of confidence. 

_He tackled Willow before I even realized he'd moved. Suddenly, he was there, holding her. She was screaming. Giles' arms were around my waist, keeping me upright, but it was Spike's words that kept me conscious. I didn't know what he planned to do, I really didn't, but he was edging towards the Sanctuary and he was speaking to me. "Promise me, Buffy. Slayer. You're strong and you listen now, and you promise me. Promise me two things. You stay alive. Hear me?" I gaped at him, barely comprehending, barely even conscious, but it wasn't over, it wasn't time to fall apart yet. "I hear you," I told him. He smiled then. I couldn't believe it, Dawnie. He was holding Willow, they were both burning, and there he was **grinning **at me. I felt Giles shuddering under my hands and knew he was reacting to the weirdness too. _

_Then Spike said, "Promise me you'll leave me in here. If you ever cared about me even a drop, ever felt even a bit sorry for what happened between us… promise me, Buffy. Let me have this." And I couldn't believe it! I couldn't. He was going to… but how could I deny him again? Not again, not one more time. I just couldn't do it. I found my head nodding, heard myself saying, "'Yes, I will, I promise. For you. Because…" But he cut me off before I could tell him the 'because'. He told me to shut up. He told me to hold onto it, to keep it inside and remember it. Then he paused. A long pause. Eerie, too. There was a deep attentiveness to him, to the way he looked at me. He was taking my photograph with his eyes. It… it's bizarre, I know, but I hoped my hair was smoothed down. You don't have to glare at me, Dawn. I was all shocky and bleeding. I wasn't thinking. Anyway… there was a split second when I took my attention off him to check my hair. When I looked back, he and Willow were gone and the Sanctuary was closed._

Pulling herself out of her memory, she said, "No, I didn't see. I wasn't myself. All I knew was that you were talking to me, then you were gone. There was this big rush of water. The Sanctuary, it sorta popped like a bubble when you guys went through."

Spike's face was soft. _He knows what I was remember. He always could read me that way. _He brushed his fingers through his hair. Droplets ran down his forehead; he blinked them out of his eyes. "I figured that. When we got into the crypt, we were both soaking wet. It put out the fire, saved me from being dust." He hesitated, licking his lips nervously. "It put out Willow, too."

Her forehead creased with uncertainty. "Spike. What are you trying to say?"

"Willow… lived. Sort of. The burns healed."

Her body stiffened. "No. She died. Giles lit her on fire and she died."

"No, Buffy," Spike said.

Coldness washed over her, making her teeth chatter. Hugging herself, she tried to put the pieces of fragmented memories together. _This doesn't make sense. She can't be alive. _"She's dead. You told me so yourself. You told me Willow is dead!"

"I did say that, and I meant it. She's dead, but…" He reached his hand out to her, his face sober. A muscle quivered at his jaw. She took it, clung to it, and urged him with her eyes to continue. 

Letting her keep his hand, he said, "Let me start at the beginning."

"When would that be?"  
  


"When you last saw us. The Sanctuary closed behind us and we were trapped inside together. It took a few days for Willow's burns to heal. I… tried to tend to her, as best I could."

"Sounds… cozy," Buffy said, narrowing her eyes. _This is wrong. A mistake. It couldn't have happened this way. He'll tell me it's a lie, I know he will. _"So what, you bonded?'

At that, he laughed, humorlessly. "Not even close. She hated me from the get-go."

"She didn't seem too big with the hatred when she cast the Sanctuary spell. It sounded like she was trying to help you."

He squeezed her hand. "T'wasn't for me, that spell. Not really. It was… well, pet, it was an act against you. Another one. She wanted to hurt you, to hit you below the belt."

_Xander. Tara. Giles' guilt. Dawn's suffering. And my own. A year of watching the crypt door. A year of wondering, of hurting and fearing and longing… _"Well, then she succeeded." She looked down at the black water, at Spike's hand wrapped around hers, two white shapes entwined, suspended beneath the surface. _A year spent dead inside. And all the while Willow was… where was she? _"What happened to her? I… I saw her… I saw the ashes. In the sarcophagus. You said she started to heal but… then what? What killed her?"

He pulled his hand back and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know how to tell you this. It's… Buffy, I swear I would have stopped her if I could have."

_Calm him down. Calm him down and get him to talk. _Her stomach twisted with anxiety but she made herself go to him. Taking both his hands in hers, she said, "It's okay. You did all you could, I'm sure of that. Whatever happened… it wasn't your fault."

He snorted. "No, it wasn't. It wasn't my fault at all. Except that I was the one with the jigger of whiskey and the nerve to toss it on her."

"If you hadn't done that, Giles would have died. We all would have. And you're not alone with the blaming. There's plenty to pass around. If you'd been around the last year, you'd see how crazy we've all been. Dawn's practically Stepford kid, she wants to be normal so badly. I've been… I might as well not have been there, I was so…. so empty. And Giles… he puts on a big, Gilesy front but he's as bad off as Dawn and I are. Worse then us, really. He drinks when we're asleep. I find empty bottles every morning. We never train. I still patrol but the Hellmouth's been quiet. Weirdly quiet."

"Sort of like all the badness has gone to ground? Like it's hibernating?" 

"Yeah, that's how it feels." _He already knew I was going to tell him that. Something's going on and I am way far from knowing what he's getting at. _"How did you know? You've been busy being trapped-guy."

"I wasn't trapped. Not really. Not the whole year."

He spoke casually, as if it didn't matter, as if she hadn't been torturing herself over his confinement- or as if he didn't care that she had been. _This can't be all. He's going somewhere with this. I don't have the whole picture yet._ "But we thought… the Sanctuary, I mean it held, Giles checked…"

"The tunnels. I could've left through them."

_Could have? So, he didn't? _"We thought they were sealed in with the spell. We… we should have checked. We could have come, could have helped you… but we assumed…"

"You know what they say about assuming, pet." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I didn't want you to come. As I recall, you promised you wouldn't. Didn't want to leave. Couldn't at first, but then later… I never even tried."

She stared at him, confusion and dread making her heart pound. _This is going to be bad. Badness cometh and I don't want to know, I don't want to ask him, but hello, Slayer here. I have to._ "Then how do you know they weren't sealed up?"

His expression was grim as he watched her. "Buffy… the tunnels couldn't have been sealed. Willow escaped through them." 

Surprise took her balance. Stumbling in place, she said, "You mean… Willow's out there? Free? Walking around Sunnydale?" 

"Not exactly, no. But- wait." Spike frownedand looked straight down into the water at his waist. Glancing back up at Buffy, he asked, "Did you feel something? Something sort of… slick?"

"Huh?" _He better not be trying to get out of telling me the rest because if so, he's picked a really lame way to go about it. _"No, I don't feel anything. What are you- oh!" 

Something wrapped around her leg. She froze as its thick length squeezed her calf. "Feeling something," she muttered, tightening her grip on his hands. "And it is _so_ not a vine."

"A snake?" 

"If so, it's the biggest one I've ever seen around here." She gulped as it looped around her other leg. "And it's getting frisky."

Spike recoiled. "It's back to me again."

"And it's still got my legs too." She shifted her weight, trying to figure out how best to go about grabbing it. "Wait… it's letting me go."

"Not me," Spike said. He sucked in a deep breath. "Bugger's got me around the hips. It's… bloody fuck!"

"What? Is it hurting you?" Buffy asked, then yelped and jumped back as Spike's hands were torn from hers. He was pulled under water so quickly, she was left blinking in astonishment, too stunned for a moment to move. The water churned where Spike had stood. She saw a flash of something just below the surface. _Scales. On a snake as big around as a log. _Her Slayer instincts subdued her fear. Taking a gulp of air, she held her breath and dove.

The water was dark and muddy but Spike's white hair stood out like a beacon. She grabbed him by the shoulders and felt her way down his body to where the snake was wound several times around his waist. Feeling each loop, she searched for the head, then gave up. She wedged her fingers between the snake and Spike and pulled outward, trying to tear the creature loose. Her lungs burned with the need for oxygen. _Spike can't drown, but I can. _

Need outweighed want. She kicked her way to the surface, dragging Spike- and the snake- with her. As soon as his head was above water, Spike pushed at her arms, urge her away from him. "Get yourself out of here. This isn't a normal snake. Not even sure I'd call it a snake at all." 

"Demon?" Buffy gasped as she held on tightly to the upper loop of the snake's body, keeping it from dragging Spike back under.

"I saw its eyes. It… demon, yeah. The same one from before." Spike sucked in his stomach, helping her push her hands deeper between his hip and the snake. "Spoke to me in Willow's voice. I heard it, clear as day."

"Not now," Buffy said. She braced her bare feet on Spike's knees for leverage and put all her strength into tugging the snake off him. Its muscles contracted; she could feel it constricting him. With a gurgling moan, Spike was pulled back under. 

Buffy let herself be taken under with him, holding on with all she had. She searched for the snake's head, wanting to see what Spike had seen, but couldn't find it. All she could make out was the whiteness of Spike's hair and skin, the bright flash of his eyes, and her own hands on the rough scales. _I have to get him free. We have to get out of here._

"It won't matter, Buffy." 

_Willow's voice. How can it be so clear, underwater? How can it be so… Willow, coming from the snake? _Forgetting where she was, she opened her mouth to respond but only ended up swallowing a stomach-turning amount of water. Closing her eyes, she ignored the nausea, ignored the pain in her lungs, and focused her thoughts on communicating with… whatever it was. _I know it's not you, Willow. Let go of Spike and tell me what you want from us. _

"What I want? This. This is what I want." Willow's laugh rang out and Buffy flinched. "Your panic. Your pain. Poor little Buffy, so afraid. You think I'll squeeze and squeeze your vampire till he falls apart and turns to dust?"

Spike's arms flailed as the demon constricted firmly, forcing Buffy's hands off of it. Bubbles rose from his mouth and nose. She knew he had yelped in pain. _Let him go! You don't want to dust him, believe me. _

"You're right about that. He's a vampire; they are my children. I wish him no harm but you, little Slayer, little child of Horus… your pain is my pleasure." 

Surprised, she wavered for a moment. _Well, I kinda meant that you should leave him alone if you want to live, but hey, that works too. _Tucking her hands beneath Spike's arms, she pulled them all back up to the surface.

"Let him go!" she shouted, spitting out a mouthful of water. "Let him go, or so help me…"

"Buffy!" A voice on shore called to her. _Dan, _she thought, and duel feelings of relief and worry blurred her vision. "Dan! Run!"

Dan chuckled nonchalantly. The sound reverberated over the pond. "Run? Don't be silly. Run from what?" 

"Buffy," Spike said, calling her attention to him. He pointed down. "It's gone." 

"It's gone?" Gagging on the gritty-tasting water, she scanned the length of the shoreline, focused all her Slayer senses on the murky depths. _Vanished. How could it just disappear? _"What the hell was that?"

He held her against him. "The ghost. Or demon. Whatever. It's the same thing."

She wrapped her fingers around Spike's chin and made him look at her. "That wasn't Willow. It had her voice, her memories, but it wasn't… it wasn't Willow."

Sadly, he said, "Pet, I know."

*********

He was taking care of her. Buffy hadn't expected him to but she was too heartsick to protest. While Old Dan turned his back discretely, he'd helped her out of the water, keeping his hands in chaste areas of her body as he led her to her clothes. She made it as far as the farmhouse porch before violent retching brought her to her knees in the dirt of her grandmother's herb garden. _I will always think of the scent of rosemary and sage when I remember learning that my best friend… lived? No, not lived. Willow did not live. That was not her. **Was not. **_

It was ten minutes before she could stand again. Spike wiped her mouth with the corner of his wet tee-shirt, his fingers cold against her flushed cheeks. He took her arm and she allowed him to support her up the steps. Inside, he'd built a fire in the wide, stone hearth. She sank beside it and drew her knees up to her chest, curling into as tight a ball as she could. Staring into the flames brought back too many memories so she studied the speckled river stone instead, finding some calm in the muted greens and grays, in the flecks and stripes that typified them. _Focus on anything but fire. Anything but snakes. Anything but blood. How am I going to tell Giles about this? How am I even going to **think** about this?_

She didn't hear Spike approach until she felt the warmth of a blanket as he wrapped it around her shoulders. He sat on the opposite side of the fireplace, another blanket over his bare chest. Bruises peeked out from under the edges; she knew he must be in pain and the worry brought her out of her stupor. "You're hurt?"

He raised the blanket to cover the marks. "Couple of ribs cracked. Nothing too bad. I sent Dan home."

"He must think I've lost it." She rested her head on her knees. "Yelling about a snake he couldn't see… did he say anything?"

"Not much. The, uh, nakedness wigged him more than the snake part. Forgot to pull my pants on, what with wanting to get you inside. Fellow didn't say anything but he seemed to be deciding between taking you home with him or knocking me unconscious."

"But you got him to leave."

"Just." He cleared his throat. "You ready to hear the rest?"

She raised her head, searching within her for the courage to go into Slayer mode. _It's rusty. Haven't done any Slayage for… not long enough. What to deal with first, that's the question. The giant snake-wind storm-pencil stealing ghosty thing? Or the fact that **Willow didn't die.** Not all the way. Or… I don't know!_

Pulling herself together, she stretched out her legs, thinking quickly. "First thing first. Let's back up to the stuff we were talking about before the… before the attack. Willow didn't die? How is that even possible? I saw her, we all did… she was burning…"

"She did burn. Then she healed herself. The fire didn't take away her power, it couldn't; _she _was the power. Only took a few days for the burns to disappear. I tried to tend to her, as I told you, but she wouldn't let me. Clem helped her till-"

"Clem!"

"He was staying in my crypt while I was away, remember? The Sanctuary spell locked him in."

"But he wasn't there when I…" She chewed her lip, her eyes distant. "Oh. The ashes in the sarcophagus."

Spike nodded, his eyes growing dark. "As soon as the witch was healed, she killed him. I tried to stop her, 'course I did, but she slammed me with energy. Magic. It threw me into a wall. Broke my bloody backbone, she did. I couldn't move."

_Broken back. So he was trapped. _"And then Willow left through the tunnels."

"It wasn't really Willow. I mean, yeah, she was there too… but something had possessed her." 

"Something? Like what?" 

He closed his eyes and spoke reluctantly. "I only saw its true face once and I was lying on the ground at the time, in a lot of pain as you can imagine, so I can't be too clear, but it… whatever it was, pet, it was not human. Not even close. It was old, it was ugly, and it was beyond powerful. Killed Clem with barely a look."

_This just gets better and better. _"It didn't kill you."

"No. Don't know what it meant, back at the pond, about being the father of vampires- it didn't say a word about that then. Not much time for chit-chat in any case. It was all fired up to go and do something…. It didn't say what, just kept on about needing its strength back first. Then it…" He pressed his hands together, shaking his head. "Thought I'd imagined it for the longest time, but after what happened in the pond, I know… it was true. The demon or whatever, it turned into a snake and slithered down to the tunnels."

"You think this demon, or whatever it is, rested up as a snake for a year? And now it's back with ghost Willow in tow?" 

"Not really in tow. They're one and the same now. Willow _is _dead, as you've always thought. No one could survive melding with that demon and believe me when I say _no one_. Not even a witch as capable as Willow. That… that thing, whatever it is, it has her memories, maybe even her motivations, but if Red's in there too, she's not alive." Spike shrugged. "I know how that sounds. You think I've lost my crackers, don't you."

_Crazy. Yes, that's it. We've both gone insane. Isn't it okay, to think that? Isn't it okay to think we're hallucinating and Willow is in heaven? She always hated snakes. She'd never pick this, no matter how pissed and high on magicks she was. Never. See, so, it can't be her. We're both looney, gone 'round the bend… _Reigning in her fantasies, she lifted her chin doggedly. "No. That's pretty nuts but still, not the weirdest thing to ever take place on the Hellmouth." She touched his knee in fleeting gesture of reassurance. "If it's not Willow- and, okay, pretty sure the big snake wasn't Willow- then what does it want from me?"

"It could be playing with you. It does have Willow's memories, it would know how much pain she could cause you. Some demons get their kicks that way."

_Great. That's all I need. And god, poor Willow. _"How did this happen? How did it get her?" 

"Don't know. Depends on what it is, depends on when it came to her. There are demons that are called by the combination of rage and power. They would have found Red right intoxicating after Tara died. Its hard to say without knowing what manner of demon it is."

_Demon ID'ing. This I can do. _"You said you saw its true face. You didn't recognize it?" 

"Nothing I'd ever seen before."

She stood, patting her pockets for her cell phone.Finding it, she flipped it open and pushed the power button. "We need Giles. You can describe it to him, he can look it up… we'll deal with this. We'll figure it out." She stopped dialing as a horrible thought struck her mind. "Do you think it's hurting her? Hurting Willow?"

Spike tilted his face to look up at her. "Pet, I don't think there's any Willow left to hurt."

She sucked in her lower lip, considering. _I don't know whether to hope she's in there or hope she's too far gone to know what's happening. I don't know, I just don't know…_

Rising beside her, Spike moved a light hand over her hair. "Call your Watcher. I'll pack up the car."

_He's okay. Everything's gone mad again, but he is okay. And here. And touching me. _"Okay," she said in a throaty whisper, "but be careful. Father or not, that thing didn't seem to daddyish when it was trying to squeeze you to death."

"It's not my father," he said. "Now call yours."

*****

The car was loaded. He sat cross-legged on the hood, a flask in one hand, a cigarette in the other, waiting for Buffy to finish talking to Giles. _Only a few more hours of night left, _he thought, gauging the glow tinting the horizon. _She'd better move if she wants help with the driving. _Something told him she wouldn't need help. There was an energy to her now that he'd missed before. That old, familiar buzz that drew him in and made him utterly incapable of leaving her side. _Ponce that I am. But she needs me now, she does. Nothing else figures into it._

"Spike!"

He jolted out of his thoughts to find Buffy running at full speed towards the car. The look on her face chilled him. _ She's terrified. _Jumping up, he said, "Slayer? Is it back?"

"Worse," she panted as she flew by him. Yanking open the driver's side door, she slowed only long enough to tell him to get in. The engine grated as she turned the key too far in the ignition in her haste. "Much, much worse." 

"Worse how?" he asked, closing the door only a second before she hit the gas pedal. He held onto the dash board to steady himself.

Her expression was thunderous as she maneuvered the car up the drive to Old Dan's cabin. In her fury, her words sputtered. "That… that _thing_ is in Sunnydale. It's in my house. With my Watcher and my little sister." 

_Nibblet. The girl's afraid of snakes. _Cold rage surged through him."What did it do? Slayer? Did it hurt them?"

She shook her head, focusing on the road. Her knuckled were white on the steering wheel. "Not yet. Giles… he heard something in the basement while we were talking. It was flooded, he thought, and then he turned on the light and… it _was_ flooded. With snakes. Small ones, but thousands of them. Then he heard Willow's voice, her laughter." A terse sob tore from her chest. "Spike, he thought it was her. He was so… thrilled doesn't even begin to cover it. Then she told him she still burned where he lit her up. I thought he was going to break in half, the sounds he made." 

_It's play with them. Torturing a tormented man. _"We'll get there, pet. We'll help him. Why are you driving to Dan's place?"

She leaned over the wheel as if urging the car to move faster with the slight heft of her body. _She's breaking too. _"We need all the help we can get," she said, simple words made complex by the tone.

Modulating his voice to keep his disbelief muffled, he said, "You think that old man knows how to kill this thing?" 

"He's gonna get Dawn out of town." Shoving back a wayward lock of hair, she said, "I want her out of the line of fire. She's already seen enough of it. Fire, that is. And blood and death… and now she's there alone with Giles and this monster, and where am I?" She pressed one hand against her stomach as if sick. "Not there. Not with her. Not with him. They're all alone and I'm…"

"On your way," Spike interrupted. He picked up her hand and placed it back on the steering wheel. "Drive."


	6. Bones 6

A/N: I do not speak Latin, unfortunately. If it's gibberish, blame the on-line translation software, not me. 

*****

            The front door was open. 

            Buffy didn't wait for Spike. She ran up the porch steps, taking them two at a time. "Spike, tell Dan to wait in the car."  _Who knows what we'll find. Dawn and Giles could be… but probably not. It wants to play with us before it does anything… permanent._

            She ran through to door, tripping a little on the jam. "Giles? Dawn?" she called, scanning the living room before moving deeper into the house. "Hello?"

Skidding to a halt at the entrance to the kitchen, she felt relief settle over her for a moment. Giles sat at the island, his head on his arms, facing away from her. He was breathing, she noticed that first thing. _He's okay._

"Giles," she said, stepping closer, then paused, sniffing. _He wouldn't be…drinking? Now? No_. Catching sight of the empty bottle of scotch and shot glass that sat on the counter in front of him, she groaned aloud. _Oh. Great. That's great. _

Going to the sink, she lifted a second bottle with her fingertips and set it beside a third on the counter. _You'd think he'd be dead after drinking all this. I would be. Guess he's been at it for a few days. _"Giles, c'mon, wake up. Where's Dawn?" _She's been here all alone with no help because he decided to check out for the count. _Anger stole her breath; she clenched her fists in an effort to keep from hitting him. "Giles!"

"He's sleeping on his watch? Not very… Watcher-like." Spike propped his shoulder against the doorframe, cocking his head at the scene. "Dawn?"  
  


"I'm trying to find out." Taking hold of Giles' arms, she gave him a brisk shake and didn't stop until he stirred.

Lifting his head, he blinked at her with bloodshot eyes. "Buffy. You're here."

_Hurray for the hung-over master of the obvious. _"Giles? Dawn?"

        "Ehm, she… she's fine. Not home at the moment. Whenever the moment happens to be." Straightening in his seat, he yawned. "I don't remember falling asleep here."

_Don't hit him. Don't do it. Too many other things to worry about. _"The snakes?" 

            He looked over his shoulder. "Down in the basement. Or, they were, last time I… I mean, before I…" Tapping the side of the glass, he shrugged. "They were there a while ago."

            "Before you got too sloshed to care?" Holding up a hand to ward off his weak negation, she opened the door to the basement and peered inside. _Yep. Snakes. Lots and lots of them. _She left the light off, feeling sick. _Lots. And lots. _

As she shut the door, Spike said to Giles, "You've been here for days with them and you didn't fight them?"

            "Fight thousands of garden snakes? With what? Wit and charm?"

            "Or the power of your manly, drunken glare." Spike moved farther into the room to stand at Buffy's side. "Smells like a bloody distillery in here."

            Ignoring their sniping, Buffy pushed her hair back from her face. "It's still all snakey down there. We've got work to do. Put some coffee on, get sober. Where is Dawn?"

            "At Janice's, sleeping over. I sent her there after you phoned." He waved towards the basement. "She didn't need to see this. Poor girl's been through enough."

            "Or that," Buffy said, pointing at the empty bottle. "She's seen enough of that, too."

            Giles didn't answer. He dropped his head into his heads and rubbed at his face with open palms. There was nothing ashamed or apologetic about him. _Just tired. Tired, and very, very jaded._"Giles? Coffee?"

            "Right," he mumbled, sounding bewildered. "Coffee. What then?"

            "Books." At his dark look, she scowled. "Yeah, it's been a while. A long while, but now we have to go back to work. Come on. It's like falling off a horse. Or a bike. Or something. Just get back on. Go dig the books out of the attic. Research mode is what we do, remember?"

            "It's what we did," he corrected. He folded his arms over his chest in a gesture of self-protection. "_Did_, Buffy. And look where it got us. All the research. All the work, all the care…" Picking up his glass, he threw back his head and drained the last, lingering droplets of scotch down his throat. "Look where it got us all."

            She smothered her impatience, suppressed the sudden resurgence of her urge to hit him, and spoke through clenched teeth. "Just get the books. I know it… it sucks. We've been through enough. All of us. But Giles, you have to…" _Get past it, _she thought, closing her eyes to hide her anger. _Don't feel like this. Be stronger. Be… Giles, my Watcher, again. _

Opening her eyes, she reached towards him and covered his hand on the glass. She took it, holding his confused gaze. "You have to try. Please." 

            Her quiet words seemed to spark something inside of him. His shoulders straightened almost imperceptivity, but it was enough, it was progress. "I'll do it."

            "Great." She rewarded him with a smile. "Set up command central in the dining room. Spike, go tell Old Dan where he can pick up Dawn."

            Giles looked back, halfway out of the kitchen. "Your friend Dan? You brought him here with you?" 

            "He's taking Dawn out of town till this whole mess… demon thing… until it's over." Her hands skimmed down to search her pockets. Pulling out her cell phone, she gave it to Spike. "Tell him to give this to Dawn. I don't think the demon will follow her but just in case, she should be able to reach us and vice versa."

            Spike slipped it into his pocket. "You sure that's the best plan?"

            "Better than the alternative." She cast a glance towards the basement door. _I can hear them down there, slithering. But they're not really snakes. And they're not really Willow. It's a demon, that's all. Just another demon, no different than any of the others. I can pull it together; I can win this, just like I've always done. Except this time, it's beyond personal_. _It's not Willow, it's not, but…_Weariness bit at her, blackening the edges of her vision. _God, I need a rest._

Motioning for Spike to follow her, she headed out toward the front door. "It doesn't want Dawn. It wants us. The Slayer, her Watcher… I don't know why, but we're gonna find out. When Dan's gone, check in with Giles. He'll need help pulling the books out of storage. Tell him everything you know about the demon. Tell him what it looked like- draw a picture if it'll help. Maybe we'll get lucky and Giles will recognize it off the top of his head." Doubt shadowed her last words. _The old Giles would have, but this Giles... _

            Spike led Buffy into the living room, bypassing the open front door. "First, let's you and I have a chat."

"Umm, okay. A quick one." _Dan's waiting, but I guess that's okay. Dawn's safe enough at Janice's house for a little while and I… I need a minute. Maybe two. Maybe two hundred. Just enough time to pull my head together._ "What is it?"  

"Your Watcher's changed." Spike sat on the edge of the couch, asking her with a tilt of his head to sit beside him. "Not for the better."

            "We've all changed," Buffy replied, exhaling noisily. She flopped down beside him and extended her legs out in front of her, stretching muscles that ached from too many hours of driving. On the wall across the room, she saw a framed photograph taken a lifetime before: _the Scoobies, the Slayer, the Watcher, and the Key_, _at one of our post-battle pizza parties_._ Dracula, I think._ _Look how… shiny we all seem. Happy, shiny people. Even with all we'd been through, we were… innocent. So innocent. We thought we'd never hurt each other, not permanently anyway. But look at us now. Look at us now._

"Changed a lot." Spike settled back and fitted his fingers together. "Yeah, of course you have. Giles though…"

            She turned her head towards him, her face soft with worry. The anger melted away, revealing to her a gnawing ache centered over her heart. Pressing against it with her fingertips, she tried to put her feelings into words. "He's beyond changed. He's broken. We… we all were. Giles, Dawn, and I. But Dawn started back to school, started to move on… and Giles was… well, not okay, but… it was like, he _said_ he put on the whole normal-life act for Dawn's sake but really, it was for his own. No Watcher stuff, except for rescuing- I mean, releasing- you. No bookwork. No patrolling or even random, backyard stakings. Nothing that would remind him of who he'd been." _Or who he'd killed._

            "And now you've come home and pulled him back into the demon stuff."

            "And he's less than thrilled. I- I think he would have stayed like he was forever. You know? Stayed normal. Well, denial-normal, but still. He never wanted this. The Watcher stuff… it wasn't his choice. Just like me, that way." Kicking the coffee table with the toe of her shoe, she cursed under her breath. "I hate destiny."

            Crossing one leg over the other at his ankles, he shifted closer but avoided her eyes. "You know what else it is he's up-in-arms about, don't you?"

            "Not the demon. He doesn't seem to care that it's dangerous."

            "No, not the demon. It's you. You come in here all in control and Slayer-like, giving orders, pushing the research… see, you're better and he's not. It's gotta kill him to see that." At her look of disbelief, he thrust his fingers through his hair. "Hear me out. You've changed over the last few days. I can see it. Being off the Hellmouth, at the farm… it helped you. Made you… brighter."

            Her eyes flashed back to the photograph. _Happy, shiny people. No, that's not me anymore. I'm just doing what I have to do to make it through each day, can't he see that? But maybe, maybe he does see. Maybe he sees more than I do. _"Yeah. Okay, I kind of get that. Something in me… it still hurts, don't get me wrong. Hurts a lot. Huge amounts of hurt, but now… god, Spike. This year… it's been… I couldn't feel anything but the hurt. Now though, there's… more. And the hurt, it's easier to bear."

            "Hurrah for your magical, healing farm," Spike said dryly, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans for his packet of cigarettes.

            "No, Spike." She placed her hand on his arm, holding him still, making him meet her steady gaze. "Not the farm. You. Having you back… seeing you _whole_, and, and _you _again, it… I… you've done this to me. You helped me." Her gaze faltered. "I just wish there was someone who could do the same for Giles."

            Emotions flickered across his face too quickly for Buffy to identify. Beneath her touch, his muscles bunched and relaxed, as if unable to decide how to react. Finally, he covered her hand with his own cool palm and pressed it harder against him. "You will survive this, Slayer."

            _But at how big a cost? How much more can I lose? How much is left? _She opened her mouth to ask him, but he covered her lips with a single finger.

            "Shh," he whispered, tracing the curve of her mouth. His face was close to hers, so dangerously close. She marveled at his bravery- for it was clear he had not completely forgiven her- but only for a moment, because then his lips brushed over hers. The kiss was so light, as fragile as their half-spoken truce. Buffy held her breath, wanting nothing, not even air, to come between the touching of their skin. A rumble rose from his chest, and she quivered in response. 

_He tastes like fire_, she thought, the only words she could pick out of the mad spinning in her mind. _Fire and ice, together. Sun and snow. The heart of all things opposite and conflicting and… oh, wonderful…_

He pulled away abruptly, leaving her surging toward him for a brief, blind moment before she realized his lips were gone. _What…what is he… oh. So much for bravery. _Licking her lips, she blinked hard."Spike?"

            "Slayer," he said, and she stiffened._ Slayer. Yep, that's me. At least, it is when he wants to put some non-existent distance between us. Nice. Very nice, in a way that's totally not._

"Spike. What's… what are you doing?"

Dodging her question, he stood, tugging on the leg of his jeans. "Dan's waiting," he said, clearing his throat. 

            "Dan. Right. For Dawn." _Okay, Buffy, time to focus. _She rose to her feet, embarrassed and annoyed to find her legs shaky. "You're right. We don't have time to… well, to…"

            "No time to linger," he said, covering for her. Inclining his chin, he touched her arm. "What will you be doing?"

            _Focus. And not on Spike. Slayer, remember? Demon to kill?  _"I- I'm gonna check out the basement. The snakes will disappear soon, I'm guessing. Their job was to draw us here and they succeeded. Yay them."

            "Um, yeah," he said, raising an eyebrow.  

_Nothing like a little sarcasm to get past a moment of weirdness. _"I'll scope it out down there, see if there are any clues. And then…" With a shrug, she skirted past him towards the kitchen.

            His voice was hoarse as he called after her. "Then what, Slayer?" 

            "Then I'm pouring every bottle of Giles' booze down the drain." _Killing off all our demons, one by one. That's my job. Hi ho, hi ho. _"He's the brains of this operation. It won't do us much good if he pickles himself before we even get going."

"Pickle my brain?"

 She jumped, startled to find Giles laboring down the staircase towards her, a large crate in his arms. He clung to it as if to steady his balance. 

"Yeah," she said lamely, wrinkling her nose. "No pickling." 

He stumbled on the steps and barely righted himself. Wincing, she gripped the end of the railing. _That would have been a nice broken neck there. He's still got a ways to go before sober-land. _

"Buffy, it's fine scotch, not formaldehyde." He reached the bottom step and glared at Spike over Buffy's shoulder. "Or that swill Spike likes to poison himself with."

            _I'm not getting into this with him. We don't have time. Focus, focus, focus. My new mantra. Yay for me. _She didn't have to turn to feel Spike sweep out of the room behind her. Taking his silence as a mercy, she let him go. At the sound of the front door opening and shutting, she sighed. _Focus. _

"Books, good," she said, taking the heavy box from his arms. "Let's go into the dining room and start in. The coffee should be done."

            "I don't want coffee." Giles followed her into the room and slumped onto a chair. Propping his elbows up on the table, he rubbed his face with both hands. "If we must do this then let's just get it done, shall we?"

            Buffy dropped onto the chair beside his. "Fine." _Don't snap at him. Be patient. Be kind. You can do this. Focus._ Catching sight of Spike coming back inside, she waved him into the room. "Spike got a look at this demon's true face. He can give you a description."

            Spike took the seat beside Buffy's, his face serious. "First off, it's not the prettiest bloke in town." 

            "Uh, maybe we should lay off the insults." Biting her lip, Buffy said, "Do you think it can hear us? I mean, hey, lots of snake ears down there. It's powerful, what with the shapeshifting, and the whole non-corporeal deal…"

            Spike's lips twitched upwards. "You think it matters? Our beastie can teleport and be in two places at once. It can take the form of wind and move objects with a thought. Makes going covert a right challenge."

"Wind?" Giles patted his breast pocket, looking distant. _He wants his glasses,_ Buffy thought. _That's a good sign. _"Buffy, repeat what the creature said to you while in the pond. The part about… about children." 

"He thinks he's Spike's father. Well, not really _Spike's_ father, or not just his father, anyway. The father of all vampires. And he called me… oh, what was it. Harus? The child of Harus?"

Giles tipped the crate on its side. Grabbing the top book, he heaved it out and opened it, blowing a layer of dust from its leather cover. "Horus," he said, "Not Harus, Horus. And father of vampires, father of… father of evil… ah, here." Reaching the page he'd searched for, he slid it to Spike. "Here. Is this the face you saw?"

            "Strange animal head- what is that, you think, an aardvark? Scrawny man's body, curved snout, red eyes… yeah, that's the one alright."

            Snapping shut the book shut, Giles tossed it back into the crate. It missed and hit the table, sending more dust into the air, but Giles didn't notice or care. He slumped back in his chair. "If that's the creature you saw then, well…"  
  


            "Then what?" Buffy picked up the book, trying to find the right page. Holding it out to him, she said, "Giles?"  
  


            "Then we're buggered." He refused to take the book, instead tipping his head against the back of the chair and closing his eyes.

            "Giles…" _Hitting him will not make you less scared. _Buffy opened the book again. "We've fought bad stuff before. No holding out." Frustration took over as he didn't budge. "Come on, Giles! What good is a Watcher if he sits around with his eyes closed?" 

He didn't even flinch. "I'm not your bloody Watcher. Not anymore."

She opened her mouth to yell at him, but Spike spoke up first. "Right. Well, look, Slayer, you have eyes of your own. Watch yourself for now. Here." Taking the book, he pointed out the page. "Here's a bit in English. Read."

Still pissed at Giles, Buffy read, but couldn't focus beyond the first word. "Set. What a dumb name for a demon. Not very fear-inspiring." 

            "Set," Spike read aloud. "Also know as Seth, Setekh, Seti, and Sutekh. The most powerful Egyptian chaos lord. Son of…" His voice trailed off as he realized what it was he was reading. "It's not a demon at all. It's a god."

            Buffy took a quick breath, shocked. "Another like Glory?"

             Giles laughed, a terrible, icy chuckle. "Not _a_ god. _The_ god, the original god of chaos and evil. The… the devil, after a fashion. The earliest deity created by the First Evil. Its mythology varies considerably. Set is known as the god of many things: foul weather, fratricide, foreign lands…even as an idol of the blind, though that last comes from his tendency to extract the eyeballs of his enemies."

            "Let's skip over that part, please," Buffy said. "What are the facts?"

"For all the variations of story, there are two consistent details: Set is the most malevolent of evils, and the most potent of chaos lords. He makes Glory look like a tantrum-prone toddler."

            "Oh." She looked down at her hands. _Nothing is ever simple_. "Not the First Evil, just its bestest, top student. So we can fight it?"

            Spike scanned the pages of the book. "Too many gods. It's a bitch to remember it all. I did study this one, long ago. Before I was… before I met Dru. As I remember, Horus has been trying to kill Set for eons, with not much in the way of success."

            "Horus? You mean, my new daddy?"

            Giles pulled a second book from the crate, opening it in front of her. "Here he is, Horus."

            "There's not much of a family resemblance. What with him having the head of a… what is that, exactly?" 

"A falcon. The Egyptian god of light and goodness- the good to Set's evil, if you will. Set would consider all children of the Slayer line to be children of Horus. It would seem that explains Set's purpose here."

            "Umm… okay?"

            Giles sighed. "The ancient tales tell us Set murdered Osiris, who was the father of Horus. Horus swore to avenge his father's death and battled Set many times over the ages, always failing in his task. The last fight was so long ago, many thought Horus had indeed succeeded but there was never any proof of Set's demise."

            "No body?"  
  


            "Gods are incredibly difficult to kill, as you've learned. Horus hacked at Set with a sword, slashing him into many small pieces. It's almost certain that Horus believed Set to be dead but that was not actually the case. Obviously, not the case.

Much weakened, Set turned himself into a snake and went underground. I believe he's lived as a serpent beneath the earth since the days of the Pharaohs, resting, healing, and… and waiting for the right opportunity to reveal himself." 

"I get it. He rested up and resurfaced over the Hellmouth to come after the Slayer. The age old battle, good versus evil." Spike glanced back down at the book. "Says hereHorus was never killed. Reckon he still thinks Set's dead?"

            "I don't know." Buffy tugged the book closer, squinting at the tiny print. _Latin? Spike reads Latin? _"Does it say anything about how Set can be hurt?"

            Giles snorted, the coldness sending a chill down Buffy's spine. "Set can't be hurt. Not by us, not even by you. Horus is a powerful god and he could scarcely manage." 

"But we've fought a god before. Fought her, and won."

            "Through a loophole. And at the cost of your life."

            "Well, then find me a loophole!" Biting her lip, she tried to stay calm. "Okay, let's take a step back. Set picked up on the stuff about Willow. Isn't that kinda weird? I mean, he couldn't have been around that long. We would have noticed if he was around while Willow was still… still around. Right?"

            "Think maybe Set's messing with you. He could be telepathic. He'd want to hurt you, throw you off your game. Sure he wants to kill you but he's also the type to enjoy the pleasure of tormenting the Slayer beforehand."

            "Spike…" Giles cocked his head as though listening to something inside himself. His forehead knitted with concentration. Finally, he said, "Accuratus ceterus occidocisum."

            "Umm…" Buffy touched Giles' arm. "Please, speak Californian."

            "I get it." Spike looked down at his lap as though embarrassed. "Caution, otherwise death by torment. That it, Rupert?"

            "Close enough," Giles said. "One of the most common warnings given to mortals by Osiris. Famous words from the third edition of the Book of Lost Dead. Buffy, did Willow ever told you exactly how the resurrection spell worked?"

            "I never really wanted to know," Buffy said. Her stomach churned as she thought back to the months after her return. "It must've been… something huge. Something big enough to get a Slayer back to life. Whatever Willow… whatever she felt she had to do, to give… she never mentioned it. Not to me, anyway."

            "That's almost certainly because she didn't know herself." Turning the page, he nodded as if his suspicions were confirmed. Though his mouth was bracketed by lines of misery, Buffy noticed a frenetic energy about him and it heartened her. _That's a Giles I recognize. _Then she looked closer and realized that the energy wasn't just intense. _Not good. Not good at all. He's terrified._

 "Damn," Giles muttered as he scanned the page, tracking with his index finger. "Foolish, foolish girl."

            Exchanging a look with Spike, Buffy concealed her uneasiness. She raised an eyebrow. "Me?" 

            "No, not you. Not you. Willow." He leapt to his feet, pacing with sharp turns, his body stiff. "How could she dare to… she must have misunderstood, o-or misread, or…"

            _Not good. _"Um, Giles? Want to clue us in?"

            He perched on the edge of his chair, his hands rubbing at the worn knees of his pants. A nervous tic grew above his mouth; he smoothed it with a shaking hand. "To call your soul from death, Willow planned… indeed she thought she had… I-it was her intention to beseech Osiris for your return."

            "Osiris? You mean that guy you were just talking about?"  
  


            "Yes. The god of the Underworld, and father of Horus. A-a sort of… glorified gatekeeper in many ways, at least, in the view of we who live on the plain above. He was once a powerful deity, before being slaughtered by Set and cast down below to rule."

So, you're saying that when I died, I went through the… the gate. Osiris's gate. And when Willow wanted to bring me back, she dialed him up, magically." Frowning, she shook her head. "That doesn't make sense though. Why would he just give me back? Wouldn't he want something in return?"

            Heaving a sigh, Giles said, "Yes. That's precisely it. You can never get something for nothing, not from the gods, and not from magic."

            Spike rolled his eyes. "Bloody capitalists."

"Do shut up, Spike," Giles said, his tone distracted. He opened the book and placed it on the table in front of Buffy. "You see, Willow didn't understand that she couldn't simply kill a fawn and trade for a Slayer. She believed her transaction finished upon your return, and she… and she…" He ran his finger along the book's broadspine. "And she believed her deal was made with Osiris."

"You've lost me again. You said she asked Osiris to bring me back."

"She did ask him. Or, rather, she asked who she thought was Osiris. However, she was…" Swallowing hard, he pressed his hands together, steadying them. "The deal was made with another creature entirely."

"Set," Spike said, his jaw tensing. Hauling the book towards him, he read aloud from the passage Giles indicated. "Set was a peril for ordinary Egyptians in the underworld, where he was said to seize the souls of the unwary." He rapped a knuckle against the page. "Willow."

            Buffy leaned forward in her chair. "Wait a minute. Willow was never in the underworld. I was."

            "That's not entirely correct. In order to contact Osiris, she sent forth her… her magical self, her spirit. She was vulnerable to all manner of evil and she never… never…" Clearing his throat, Giles squeezed his eyes shut, but not before Buffy saw the wetness that glinted inside them. "She never even knew what hit her," he said, his voice as low as a prayer. "Oh, Willow, you… you poor, stupid girl."

Buffy could barely hear him. She didn't want to. The pain in his voice tore her apart. She shot to her feet, sending her chair scuttling back behind her. "I… I… I don't understand this. Any of it."

            "You do, pet." Spike spoke with gentle reluctance. "You do."

            "You're telling me this… this thing, this god, this _Set_… what? Possessed her?" Buffy hugged her arms around herself. "No. It couldn't have happened like you're saying. I… I lived with her, she… she was _Willow. _Okay, not super happy, healthy Willow- she was using way too much magic, you guys know that- but still, very Willowy." Righting the chair, she fell back into it. "Keep talking, Giles. Make this make sense to me."

            Giles rested his face in his hands, muffling his voice as if even he couldn't bear to hear what had to be said. "I believe Set sensed Willow's innate gifts and returned you to life in exchange for access to that power. He was weak and needed strength. She… she couldn't have known. I'll never believe she would have done this on purpose."

            Spike reached out towards Buffy, resting his hand next to hers on the table. "Red must've thought she was dealing with Osiris, not his evil twin."

            Buffy stared down at the paleness of Spike's skin next to hers. _So white… like Willow was, only he is dead and she was alive, and now she's dead… _"Set possessed her? For sure?" 

            "I believe it was a gradual domination. Willow never would have realized what was happening to her. I wouldn't imagine she even sensed Set's presence within herself. He must have gained the advantage when Willow became destabilized after Tara's death."

            _She was possessed. That whole time, while I was…_Bending over at the waist,  Buffy pressed her hands over her mouth, squelching the retching that rose within her. _I never knew it. My best friend was dying and I never, ever knew. I was too busy…_ "Oh God. Willow."

"I know, pet," Spike was kneeling beside her on the ground, holding her steady in her chair. _I didn't even see him move. He must know, he must've figured it out. _He gave her a slight nod, his fingers pressing into the muscles of her upper arms. "Hush now. Hush. You're fine. You've done nothing wrong, nothing, you hear? Not you. Never you. There are…. there are others to blame." 

            His voice quaked on the last words. She knew he was talking about himself, telling her to blame him, to put it all on him, just like she always had. _Put it all on me. That's my girl. _

"Others such as… such as me."

            It took Buffy a moment to realize Giles had spoken. _Gotta pull myself together. He's weak and I have to help him. Then there's the research, god, always that. Can't sit around feeling sorry for myself. There's no time for that. No time for grief. _

Rubbing her damp cheeks, Buffy pulled Giles' hands off his face and held them tightly. "Giles," she started, but could not finish. _What could I possibly say to make this better for him? For any of us?_

He didn't seem to notice his tears, or hers, or the quiet way Spike rocked back on his heels and stood with his hands spread wide, helpless and frustrated. All his focus was on the empty space above Buffy's head or, rather, on some internal picture. "I was in England. Went home angry with her, angry with the whole lot of them for what they'd done to you."

"I was angry too. And I… I wasn't here much. Ever." _I never saw it, never, too busy hiding from my feelings, being angry and victimy and stupid, too busy screwing Spike… _Clutching his hands, she said, "It was as much my fault as anyone's. More, even. I was her best friend and she did this… the resurrection spell… it was all for me."

The pain in her voice brought Giles' attention down to her face. He stroked a thumb over the small, knobby bone of her wrist. "No, Buffy, you mustn't blame yourself. It was I who abandoned you all here to your own resources. It is I who am at fault."

"No, Giles, it was me…"  
  


"Oh, for fuck's sake," Spike growled, slamming both hands down flat onto the table. He glowered at both of them equally. "Listen to you two! Look, Red is long gone. We've a mess of snakes in the basement brought on by an all-powerful, ancient uber-god that wants the Slayer dead and seems intent on toying with her first. You think we could save the boo-hooing for later, say, after we figure out if there's a way to kill this thing?"

            Buffy felt her face go red. She wanted to be angry with him- _how dare he stop me from beating myself up?­_- but she knew he was right. _Focus. Fight. That's what you do. Emotion comes later, after the bodies are buried. Like always._

Dropping Giles' hands to scrub her face, Buffy didn't risk looking at her Watcher. _I can barely be brave enough for myself right now, much less Giles. He's gonna have to help me._ "Yeah. Okay. You're right. Rude, but right. We… there's research. Books."

Spike's shoulders relaxed. He gave her a small smile. "I can take a peek at the laptop." 

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "You know computers? Weird. You're older than denim." __

"Came in useful from time to time. Minions tend to be on the dim side. You know what they say, if you want something done right, don't leave it to the brainless undead." 

_Why are we talking about this when everything is so totally wrong? _Snarking at Spike felt comforting, like oatmeal, or her oldest pair of sweatpants on a rainy day. _He knows it, too. _Standing, she stretched her arms up above her head, trying to ease the taut ball of ache that had lodges at the base of her throat with no success. _It hurts and it's going to stay painful until we lay Willow to rest, one way or another_. 

Walking with Spike to the entryway, she said, "The laptop's upstairs, in Dawn's room." From the kitchen, she heard the sound of glass bottles clanking together. She winced. _That didn't take long_. "I'll be dumping out a few hundred dollars worth of booze while you're up there."

Spike touched her shoulder. "You need a hand?"

"No, it's okay. I want to preserve his dignity as much as I can. Having me stop him is bad enough, but you… I think Giles would rather drink himself to death before he'd let you get the upper hand." 

"You don't think he wants to drink himself dead as it is?" Putting a finger to her lips to stop her protest before she could voice it, Spike said, "Don't. Buffy, no more excuses. No more bloody melodrama. Go on and see to him." He walked away, up the stairs, leaving her with a question she could not bear to answer.

In the kitchen, Buffy found Giles seated at the island, a tall, amber bottle between his hands. "I'll make more coffee," she said, going to the opposite side of the island. She placed her hands on either side of his, framing the bottle. "The stuff in the pot's gone cold."

"I told you before, I don't want coffee." His fingers tightened on the bottle even as he ducked his head, the petulance in his voice shaming him. "Leave off, Buffy."

"Not this time." She tugged the bottle away from him slowly, not wanting to hurt him. "Giles, we have to work."

"There's nothing we can do." He laid his head on the counter, letting his arms dangle at his sides. 

The sharp stench of the alcohol stung her eyes as she poured it down the drain. She spoke loudly, not wanting him to be bothered by the sloshing sound of his lost anesthetic. _Don't think about it, Giles. Push it away, like me. It's easier. It's necessary and god, I need you to help me now. _"Yeah, nothing we can do, heard that already. Hence the need for research. We'll look stuff up and figure out at plan, just like always."

"You're not hearing me."

"You've said this same thing before." Opening the cupboard below the sink, she tossed the empty bottle on top of a pile of others in the garbage can. "Glory couldn't be fought. The First Evil, same thing. The Mayor? Pretty damn close. And we won, every time. We can do it again."

"You're so sure of that, are you?" He struggled to lift his head, rubbing with his fingertips at the back of his neck, then gave up and laid it back down. "It's just the two of us now. And Spike."

"Yeah. The Slayer and her Watcher. It's all traditional. Isn't this what Slayers have always done? Fought with only their book-guys at their side?"

"And traditionally, they died before the first year of their Calling passed by."

Putting on an artificial smile, Buffy forced cheer into her voice. "I've died twice, so I've got some bonuses headed my way.  Frequent dier miles." Cringing, she said, "Okay, bad pun. But still, how many times can it happen, right?" Softly, she took his arms and tried to draw him upwards. "Giles, it's book time."

Ignoring her touch as well as her words, ignoring even her stupid pun, he turned his face into the smooth countertop. 

"You're being a baby." She felt his arms stiffen. "Yeah, that's right, a big baby. You're sitting here feeling sorry for yourself instead of saving my life. Isn't that your job? Protect your Slayer, protect the world? And hey, look at me… I'm supposed to be figuring out how to kill off the Big Bad, but instead, I'm here doing everything I can to keep my Watcher from killing himself the slow way. God, Giles, selfish much?"  
  


Her words, stark and accusing, hung between them heavily for a long, silent moment. _Maybe he didn't hear me. Maybe he's passed out. _

But then he sat up, his face ashen, and Buffy knew he'd grasped everything she'd said and everything she'd been too angry and afraid to say as well. _Please, be Giles, be Giles again_.

"You think I'm selfish?" He sounded so casual, she thought maybe she'd mistaken his expression, but only for a moment. "You think _I'm_ selfish. Oh Buffy, that's simply… that's rather…" His eyes burned green at her, furious and branding. "You are the Slayer. The muscle, as you say. But that night, Buffy, who held the torch? Who lit the girl we all loved aflame and ended her life? Was that you, Buffy, who put aside all that love and terror to do what needed to be done? Was it you? _Was it?_"

Buffy dug her fingernails into the tenderness of her palms. Clammy faintness washed over her and she dug in harder. _He's not saying this to me. Not Giles._

"You're not answering." He barked out a laugh and she shuddered. "Don't you have anything to say to me? You seemed chock-full of good advice a moment ago. Selfish, eh? You really believe that? Was that what you were thinking last year, while we were standing in the cemetery watching Willow burn?"   

"Giles…" She stopped, wanting to say only the right words, wanting to make him understand. _I just want you to be… you again. _"I didn't mean it like that." 

"Well, you said it like that. Selfish. After all we've been through, you truly think that of me."

            Their eyes met, glaring, and held. Between them spun the name they'd never speak to each other- _Jenny Calendar, teacher, lover, Gypsy traitor_- as well as something larger, something with shape and heat. _Why did you let Willow learn magicks? Why didn't you see the weakness in her before it was too late? It was your job, Giles, to Watch me, to Watch us all, and you were blind. _In his eyes was the reply: _How could I see her? How could I, when all my attention was on you?_

"You are lonely." Her words came from nowhere. They surprised her, rattled her, but she held on. "Giles… you're so lonely."

            Something in his face crumbled. "Lonely." He stood and walked woodenly to the doorway. "Yes, Buffy. I am that."

            He didn't slam the door. It swung shut after him with a hollow click, but Buffy's nerves were so fragile even the polite shutting noise jarred her. _Polite. Sure. 'Cause that was… what the hell was that?_

Pushing Giles' chair in, she plodded back out to the dining room only to find she couldn't bring herself to open any of the books. Thoughts slowed to mud-like consistency in her mind. _He'll come back. He will. And Spike is upstairs. I'm not alone, I just need a few minutes to rest. Just a few… _She made her way to the living room and paused only long enough to pull the throw from over the back of the couch before falling into a dense, dreamless sleep.

*****

The next thing she knew, she was woken by a hand shaking her shoulder roughly. It was several moments before she was awake enough to comprehend Spike's voice.

"Buffy. Slayer. Pet. Where is Rupert, luv? Where's your Watcher?"  
  


The edginess of his tone shot through her grogginess. She jolted upright. "He didn't come home?"

"He did leave, then?" Spike would not look at her. He held something in his hands, something wrapped loosely in cloth. "Buffy, did he leave?"  
  


"Before I fell asleep."

Growling, Spike said, "That was hours ago."  
  


"He's not home?" When Spike didn't reply, when he dropped the bundle from his hands to the rug and she saw how his whole body trembled, she knew. _I feel nothing. Nothing. I am a stone, that smooth, that solid. There's nothing inside of me. _"He's dead. Set got him and he's dead."

Spike did not argue with her and she wanted to hit him, wanted to make him yell at her, make him strike her back, making him do _something_ besides sit on the edge of the couch like a… like someone wounded. "I don't think he'd dead," Spike said. "Not yet, anyway."

_But if he's okay, why do you sound so stiff? _"Spike? What aren't you telling me."

"Buffy, luv… look, let's hit the books. We'll hammer out a way to hurt this… this…" His voice broke, as if he couldn't find a word terrible enough to call Set. _But what is going on? _  
  


She caught him trying to surreptitiously scoop the packet up from the floor. _It's small. What could it be? _Holding out her hand, she said, "Give it to me." 

  
            He held it close, evading her. "No, pet, I… no."

"Spike. Either give it to me or I will take it from you." _Giles is fine. He's out for a walk. A long walk. Maybe he stopped for coffee, or, or ice cream, or maybe even a movie. He likes the dollar cinema, they play all old movies, black-and-whites. His favorites. Where the evil is always evil and pointy-hatted, and the good guys can always be distinguished by their… god, what was it he told me? How can you tell who the good guys are?   
  
_

She pulled Spike's hands towards her and unwrapped his fingers from around the bundle, one by one. Holding it still, she stared at it a moment. _I'm in shock. I must be. Otherwise, I should be able to feel my hands and arms. I should be able to feel something other than this… _"It's wet." _My fingers are red. It's blood. _

"Yes, luv," Spike said, inching closer to her, his arm moving to brace her back. _He feels almost warm. Weird. Maybe it's me, maybe I'm too hot, maybe I have a fever or maybe… _"It's blood. Giles' blood."

He tucked his hand beneath hers, helping her hold the packet. "Yes."

Cupping her mouth, she spoke through her fingers. "Tell me. You looked, didn't you?"  
  


He lowered his forehead to hers and held her there, close to him. "I looked. I did."  
  


_I don't want to know, I can't hear this, I can't… but I'm not selfish. I'm stronger than strong. _"Tell me, Spike. You never held out on me before." 

"Buffy…" he said, turning her name into a sound of grief. "It's one of Rupert's eyes."


	7. Chapter 7

Digging up the Bones

Chapter 7

A/N: This gets a little graphic. Character torture mentioned.

Thanks go, as always to Sass and Emma. 

*****

_"It's one of Rupert's eyes."_

            A haze veiled Buffy's face. She sat motionless, her body a rigid crescent folded around the eyeball clutched to her chest. On her cheeks, two blossoms of color grew harsh against her pallor.

Spike touched her back as it rose and fell in shallow, staccato breathes. "Come on now, Buff. No time for the shock business. Got research needs doing."

Tugging on her hands, he tried to take the eyeball from her, but she held it closer, bending around it and hugging herself as if wounded. "Buffy. Pet, did you hear what I said?"

At first he thought she wasn't going to respond. Her eyes clouded over with emotions thick and unspeakable. He was about to force it from her hands when she squeezed her eyes shut. Letting out a weighty gasp, she inhaled quickly, over and again, several frantic pants that seemed to calm her enough to function. Looking at him, her face inches from his, she said thickly, "I heard you." 

Her haziness fell away a layer at a time as he watched, replaced with a sudden, sharp anger. She jumped up from the couch and moved across the room to the weapon's chest in a single, fluid charge. Spike scrambled to catch the eyeball before her movement sent it to the floor. She didn't seem to notice she'd dropped it; she didn't seem to be noticing much of anything beyond the fury driving her forward. _Forward… to what? She's going into full-out Slayage mode but there's nothing to be slain. _

He stood and approached her, using cautious steps. _She's all nerves and impulses, with not much in the way of sense._ "Buffy… what exactly is it you think you're doing?" 

Digging through the jumbled mess of blades, bows and other weaponry, she ignored his question. "Where did you find it? Giles'…" Her voice shook, as well as her hands, but the muscles of her back were steady and strong, and he could see she meant to use them. 

_Off to fight the unfightable, she is._ Taking another step towards her, he kicked away a box of holy water flasks. "Set paid us a little, invisible visit. Didn't even know he'd been here till I went to the kitchen for a drink of blood and found his calling-card waiting in my mug."

            She pulled out a bundle of stakes bound together with rope and tossed them aside as useless before continuing her search. "He left it in your mug? When?"

            The flatness of her voice worried him. _Running on empty this way, she's gonna get herself killed. _ Crouching beside her, he touched her shoulder. _Got to get her slowed-down enough to let in some common sense. _"Could've been anytime. You've been out for the past six hours. I thought your Watcher was sleeping off his bender upstairs so I set myself to the research. Pounded the books, went for a drink, and there it was, waiting for me. Just like Set is… wherever he is, with your Watcher, waiting for you. You _know_ he's baiting you, luring you out to fight the fight on his terms."

            "I know." Drawing an axe from the box, she held it up. The hallway light gleamed off its shiny blade. "He picked the perfect thing. We knew he would. He wanted to catch himself the full good-guys team. And he succeeded." Whirling around, she headed for the door.

            "Yeah, well, goodie on him." Seizing hold of Buffy's arm, he pulled her back "You're not going after him. Not yet. Unkillable god, remember? You don't even know where he is."

            She yanked herself free. "I've got a good guess. Set goes for the torment, you said so yourself. What's the one place in Sunnydale Giles won't enter, won't even look at when he passes it during patrol?"

            "The mansion. Angelus' old haunt. Yeah, okay, full of bloody memories for Giles and you're probably right that Set's keeping him there all bait-like but wait a tick and listen to me. You can't go alone and I can't go with you. Sun's up." He gestured to the window. "Slow down, why don't you. We'll do more research, figure out how to…"

            She shook her head, interrupting him. "Giles can't wait that long." Giving him the barest of nods, she said, "If I'm not back by sunset, follow me."

****

Trailing close behind her as she walked out of the living room, Spike clenched his fists to keep from grabbing her and giving her a good, hard shake. "Have you lost your mind? Get yourself killed, again, and what good will that do your Watcher? He taught you better, love. _Life's _taught you better."

            She opened the door, then stopped and turned towards him. Something in her expression made his chest tighten. _Buffy… pet, is that love I see? _ 

Lowering the axe, she turned her face up and brushed her lips against his lightly. She held herself there and spoke near his mouth, her breath laying a moist heat onto his lips. "Life's taught me to hold onto the people I care about. I've gotta do what I can for him."   

He kept his body stiff against her, kept his lips static under the touch of her mouth, unable to give up, incapable of sending her off to die without fighting with all he had to keep her safe. "Don't do this, love. We'll find another way. The only creature strong enough to hurt Set was another god. We need a plan; you can't just whack at him with your axe.""

            "You see any friendly gods around? No? I didn't think so. And Giles needs me _now_." She opened the door, making him duck back to avoid the unexpected stream of sunlight. "Sorry," she said, then circled away and broke into a run.**__**

Spike kicked the door, sending it slamming closed. "Giles needs you alive," he muttered, though he knew she couldn't hear. _And so do I. _He looked down at the eyeball in his hand. Blood discolored the cloth, darkening the fabric to a shade beyond black. His skin was also marked red and though he knew the blood did not belong to the Watcher, knew it was from the animal he'd been drinking out of a mug, the sight of it on his skin made him feel tainted. Frustration grew within his bones; he growled and stalked into the kitchen to find a container for the body part. 

            _There has to be something I can do. She's out there alone. Hours of research and all I've got are battle details older than the Master. _Giles' shot glass was still where he'd left it on the island counter. Depositing the eye inside, Spike went to the sink and turned on the hot water tap. He soaked the blood from his hands, grinding his teeth at the temperature. It hurt him, the heat, but it also quieted the voice deep inside him that seemed able to repeat only three panicky words: _Buffy will die. _   

            Drying his hands on his jeans, he made his way into the dining room and stood still, looking down at the mounds of leather-covered books. The volume on top the nearest stack caught his eye, its title, _The God Horus, _prickling an idea. _The only one ever to even hurt Set was another god._

            Falling into the closest chair, he hauled the book into his lap and opened it.

*****

            She ran, and for a brief, sweet moment knew nothing but the sting of battered pavement against the soles of her sneakers. Reality came back by increments as she neared the old mansion but did not stop her from racing up the front steps two at a time, her weapon raised. It was stupid, so stupid, what she was doing. Disregarding everything Giles had taught her out of anger and fear and guilt… He'd be angry with her but only if she succeeded, only if she saved him and if he lived.__

She knew where she'd find Giles within the dismal, empty manse. _The torture room, of course. _The thought of what she'd find there- _his eye, oh god, his eye- _made her want to stop and run back home to where, if she was lucky, he would be waiting for her with his books and tea and his quirky music. He'd laugh when she told him about this crazy dream she'd had- _Egyptian god? Good lord, Buffy, what were you watching on television before you went to sleep?- _and he'd squeeze her shoulder and give her _that_ smile, the one which he always used to tell her all was fine, and his eyes would warm in _that_ way, making her feel safer than a Slayer had any right to feel. _His eye. No, that won't happen anymore.  _He would not be waiting at homeand she could do nothing else but obey the thrum of raging energy inside her. _Whatever it takes, this monster is going down, hard. Whatever it takes. I've got nothing much left to lose._

Opening the door, she paused, peering into the lightless room. "Giles?" she called. _No need to be subtle. Set knows I'm here. The bastard called for me to come. _"Giles, it's Buffy. I'm here. Can you… can you answer me?"

            There was a movement against the back wall of the room, a scraping of cloth on cement. She rushed towards the sound. "Giles?" 

            His voice was weak, mumbling something she could not understand. Dropping to her knees, she felt her way across the floor until she hit upon something solid and warm. _A leg. Giles' leg. _ She ran her hands upwards, finding his shoulders. "Giles. It's Buffy. Can you… are you…" _Are you okay? Of all the stupid questions… of course he's not okay. _"Can you hear me?"

            Leaning close, she listened to his babbling, picking out words that made a sort of sense she wished she didn't understand. "He makes me see what I want…It's a trick, he makes me see what I want… Angelus, again. Again…"      

Tears stung her eyes. She stifled them back, gasping out a strangled sort of laugh to keep herself from breaking down into sobs. "No, Giles. It's not Angelus, not this time. And I… I'm here, really, it's me." Scooping up his hands, she brought them to her cheek. "See, here I am. Just Buffy. No tricks."

He touched her face, exploring her with his fingers, distinguishing her feature by feature with desperation. "Buffy. But I can't see you. I- I can't see… my glasses, I must put them on."

            _He wants his glasses. All the better to see you with, said the wolf to Little Red. 'Cause she was walking through the woods looking for grandmother but all she found was Death. But Giles didn't find death, not really. Just kinda. Just a kind of  death. _Tears welled in her eyes and ran down her cheeks; she could not stop them. _I guess we still have stuff to lose after all. _"No, Giles. No glasses. They won't… they won't help. Set, he… how much do you remember?"

            Giles fell into a loaded quietness. Buffy wished she could see his face, then thought better, imagining despite herself how damaged he must look. The quiet stretched on, until Buffy realized what she had asked him, and how stupid it was of her, how very stupid, to make him think of what he'd survived. "Don't remember. Forget that, Giles. Forget it. Let's… let's get out of here."

            Lifting him to his feet, she pulled him close, supporting his weight precariously on her small frame. She took a step, relieved when he did as well. "See, you can walk. It'll be okay. The door's over here and---"    She hesitated as something in the hallway stirred her Slayer senses. "What is that sound?" 

Giles' fingers dug into her arm. A low keening sound erupted from his chest. "It's Set, he's returning for me." His body jerked back towards the wall, her grasp the only thing keeping him from hiding.

Reeling to the side, she spun around in a circle to keep her footing. "Hold still, I don't want to drop you."

"But he's…" Giles cocked his head, bumping Buffy's in the process. She winced, though he didn't seem to notice. "I heard him."

"Then we better get a move on," she said, keeping her fear in check with the knowledge that she had to keep Giles from panicking long enough to get them both to safety. _Or, from panicking more. _"Come on, the door's this way. Almost there."

            He let her lead him across the room without a word but his muscles were rigid under her arm. "See, here we are," she said, nodding towards the exit. 

            As they reached the threshold, something creaked. Buffy stopped short, just as the door swung shut to slam inches from their faces. From behind it, someone- _something- _laughed. _Willow's laugh. _"Eenie meenie miney mo," said the god in Willow's girlish voice. Fingernails scratched over the wood paneling. "Catch a Slayer by her toe."__

"Shit!" Buffy yelped, vaulting back.Giles flung himself away, scuttling back to the far wall. "Giles!" 

            He cowered in the shadows, rocking back and forth. Words poured out of him in a shrill babble. "It's him, he's come back for me, he's going to cut me open with his magic again, he and Angelus, they _do _things to me, they won't let me go…"

            Running to him, she clutched his shoulders. "Giles!" She propelled him to his feet and kept him there, scanning the room for another exit. _Duh, torture room. It's not gonna have a side way in. _Turning her attention back to her Watcher, she gave him a tiny slap to interrupt the fearful moans that came from him unbidden."Listen to me. Take a deep breath, okay? We're getting out of here. Both of us, we are, but I need you to focus. Can you think of another way out?"

            "You're not Buffy, you're not," Giles said, shaking his head, vehement in his terror. "He makes me _see_ things…"

Letting go of one of his arms, Buffy stilled his cheek with a flat palm. There wasn't enough light to see the wreckage of his face but the skin beneath hers was crusted with blood. She ignored that, ignored the impulse to recoil and run so far she never had to see her Watcher as degraded as he'd become. Careful to stay gentle, she made him face her and caressed him soothingly. "It is me. See? Buffy hand. Buffy voice. Now think, Giles. Please. We need to get out of here."

            With great effort, he relaxed his body, but did not release her. "There's … there's only the one door but I remember an entrance to the sewers. Angel a-and the other vampires used it, before." Pointing to the opposite corner, he said, "A hatch in the floor, leading to the sewers."

            _Finally, something goes our way. Even if it comes from Giles having been-here, done-that with the torture room. But still, luck is luck. _"Great. We'll use that. Stay quiet, and maybe…" 

            Before she could finish her sentence, a rumbling noise filled the room. The floor and walls began to shake. She squatted low to keep her balance, yanking Giles down with her. His fingers pinched into her arms.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay," she said to pacify them both as her hair was swept up by a furious wind which seem to come from nowhere. It blew with terrible vigor around them, as if they were the eye of a strange, demonic hurricane. "It's gonna be okay." Spitting her hair from her mouth, she blinked into the darkness. "I've just gotta…"

            "There's nothing you can do." 

            She shot to her feet, positioning herself between Giles and the doorway. _Willow's voice, not Willow. Willow's voice, that's all. It's not her. _"What do you want!" 

            "I have what I want," Set replied calmly. With his words, the wind fell away, revealing… _No, not Willow. But… Willow's body. Willow hands, Willow hair, Willow…**not **Willow. _Smiling, he reached into the pocket of the hooded sweatshirt he wore and pulled out something small. Tossing it in the air and catching it with mock-idle ease, he said, "The children of Horus are mine." __

            "My dad's name is _not _Horus, you freak," Buffy said. "Horus is just some old guy in Giles' books. You're not dealing with him, you're dealing with the Slayer." Giles stayed huddled at her feet, shivering. _He's got no way to fight, no way to defend himself, thanks to this creep. _"You know what that means? Slayer? It means, I'm the girl you really don't want to piss off, and oh hey, you already did. Now, are we gonna fight or what?"

            "And what sort of fight do you plan to wage, little one? Haven't you learned, I've already bested you?" Laughing, Set raised his hand. "If nothing else, this should have convinced you. Catch." He tossed her the object he'd been playing with.

            She obeyed by reflex, not thinking better of her action until it was too late. Raising it up, she squinted at it in the dark. It took her several seconds to realize that the tiny, damp ball she held was Giles' missing eye. 

_His eye._ Buffy could barely stay upright as ripples of nausea surged through her body. _I'd wondered why Spike found only the one. Guess Set didn't want to give up both his toys. _Swaying, she bent and threw up on her shoes.

*****

            Giles couldn't see. The room was darker than the deepest part of the ocean, darker even that the pure-black color of Ethan's bad-magick eyes, the ones which he'd once thought held the answers to all he needed. Now, decades later, he had no answers and he found himself no stronger for having given up the magicks that might have saved his eyes.  Now, he was huddled alone in the most wretched corner of the most hateful house he'd ever entered and wished suddenly, with all the clarity he possessed, to be looking into Ethan's evilness. To be looking at anything at all would have calmed the panic that rolled his stomach in sick waves._ But the black magicks brought only death upon Willow. I was stronger than she, more proficient, true, but strong enough to defeat a god? No.  Not that it matters now. _

He remembered they were about to die and felt nothing at the idea apart from the tickling notion deep within that Buffy should never have come after him unprepared. _Bloody-minded girl. Should have known better. _

He sensed the presence of his Slayer standing before him, protecting him from the god with nothing but the slight girth of her body. The wind whipped her clothing; the soft cotton of her sweatpants brushed his face. She yelled, angry words that he could not comprehend but the horror in her voice could not be mistaken. It cut into the fog of his semi-consciousness and reawaked his own fear. There'd been gagging a few moments earlier, followed by the sulpherous odor of vomit. Sliding up the wall to sit, he held out his hands, searching for her.  _It's just a little death, my dear. Nothing we haven't faced before, but oh, not again, not again…_

There was a noise, a sort of crashing, as if something wooden had exploded against something stone. A voice bellowed and received an enraged response shouted in a language Giles knew he should recognize but in his current state, could not. _Just a little death, just a little… _Then Buffy's hands found his and she murmured, "We're not going to die. Just hang tight."

            *****

            When Spike blew into the room, knocking the door from its rusted hinges, Buffy screamed, startled, then bit down on her lip in fury. _Stupid vampire, what the hell does he think he's doing here?_

Spike stood stiffly, gaping at the god wearing Willow's body. Chuckling, Set gave him a little wave. _What is this, the official designated day for suicidal rescue missions? Is recklessness contagious? I **told** him to wait, I told him, and the idiot couldn't even follow an order to save his own stupid life. _Before she could tell him as much, someone came into the room behind him. _No, not someone. Something._ __

            Light shined from the being, illuminating the shadows. It revealed more of the room than Buffy wished to see. She kept her focus on the glowing… _what is he? A demon?_… avoiding other sights she couldn't bear to take in. _Giles' face. The wetness on the walls and the floor, not water but blood. And Willow…_

            "What is it?" Giles asked her, knocking his knuckles against her ankle before holding it tightly. "I feel a… a sort of heat."

            "I have no idea," Buffy said. She studied the being with fear-tinged awe. "Tall. Big with the lightyness. Sorta man-like, but not." _Emphasis on the not. Never met a man with a head of a… oh, god. A god! I know this! _"He's got a falcon's head. It-it's the guy from your book, Giles. The god, the good god. Horus."

            As Horus moved closer, Set growled, the animal-like sound absurd coming from his girlish body. Walking backwards, he threw up his arms, protecting his eyes from the light. "You weren't supposed to arrive yet, nephew. I'm still preparing."

            "The vampire summoned me. I had thought you dead." The words came from the body but the heavy, golden beak did not move. 

_A walking statue,_ Buffy thought. _Like something out of a museum, except he glows._

            "You thought as I wished you to think," Set said. "I was weak before but with the witch's magic feeding mine, my strength is nearly restored."

            Horus folded his long arms over his chest. "Contact me when you have your full power. I will wait."

            "Farewell until then," Set said, "And farewell to you as well, Watcher. Your blood tasted of nutmeg, did you know that? Delectable. I look forward to another go-around with you and your Slayer." He saluted Buffy with mocking fealty and walked out the door.

"Umm… okay... this has gone beyond weird." Buffy looked from Spike to Horus and back again, bewilderment widening her eyes. "Someone better start making with the explanations, and I mean _now_. Why do we have two gods now instead of one? Where the hell did you come from? And why did you let him walk out of here? He told you he's weak, you could have…"

            "Buffy." 

Giles' frail voice quieted her. Kneeling down, she said, "I'm right here."

"Do not…" Coughing, he tried again. "Do not anger Horus."

"I thought he was a good guy."

"With gods, it's all relative. He has goodness to him but you must remember, his motivations are his own." Inching closer, he whispered, "Horus beheaded his own mother when she granted Set amnesty. Do not anger him."

_If the good guy is evil, does that make the bad guy double-evil? _"Gotcha," Buffy said, "Play nice with the bird-brain super-coward who just let Set meander on out like they were best buddies or something, like he hadn't been in here all day playing psycho-surgeon on your face…"

"Buffy," Spike said, tapping his ear. "If I can hear you, so can Horus."

_Stupid me. _"Oh. Well, when I said bird-brain, I only meant… 'cause you know, you've got a big bird head and all… not that you're, um… yeah, I'll just stop while I'm ahead here."

"I understand that my actions seemed cowardly to you, mortal, being who and what you are. You do not need to understand, only believe that a disappointing victory over Set would be no true victory at all."   

            "Actually, I think that Set being dead pretty much equals a victory, and dead is dead no matter which way he's facing when you stick him with a sword. Or whatever you use to kill an uber-God."

            "Our battle has been waged over eons. I've not come so far only to fight an inadequate opponent."

 "So you decide to show up and wait to see if you'll pick this week to fight him?"

            "I had little choice. The spell used to summon me was powerful."

"Spike? You cast a spell?"

            Inclining his head, Spike said, "Found you a god, Slayer."

            "You summoned Horus? How?"

            "Giles has a book for everything." His face darkened as he studied the Watcher. "Talk can wait. We need to get him out of here. Think he's strong enough to walk?"

            "I… I am, yes," Giles said. "With help, that is." 

**"**Put your weight on me," Buffy said. She tucked her shoulder under his arm, supporting him. Spike grabbed his other arm and took up half Giles' weight. Nudging him forward, Buffy hugged Giles closely. "That's it. Everything's okay. We're leaving now."

            Barely conscious, Giles bowed his head. He mumbled something as she urged him towards the door. It might have been _good. _Or it might have been _god. _Either way, she knew it was a sort of prayer.

            Something crunched beneath her shoe. Pausing, she glanced down. _His glasses. They're broken. _She started to reach down for them before remembering that they were now useless. _What will he do with his hands when he's nervous? What will he do, period? Giles with no eyes is… _A burning grew behind her eyes as her words from the night before resonated in her memory. _What good is a Watcher who can't see? How could we have defeated Glory without Giles? Or the Mayor, or Acathla, or…_

Over Giles' bent shoulders, Spike met her teary eyes, his look a darker, harder version of her own. "Got work to do, Slayer," he said, quirking his mouth in resolute doggedness. "Buck up."

Stiffening her spine, she kicked the broken glasses away into a corner and headed for home.

*****

            "You should be in the hospital," Buffy said as she helped Giles settle onto the living room couch. Pulling a blanket over him, she tucked it in around his chest. The quilt patches were only shades darker than the angry red and blue that mottled his face. She didn't want to think of his wounds, of the blood she'd helped him wash away, but a mixture of pity and anger rooted in her chest and would not be eased.

He winced as he adjusted himself on the cushions. "There's nothing to be done for me," he said, licking his lips. Without his eyes, his face was unreadable, but she got that he was thirsty. 

Finding a cup of water on the coffee table, Buffy brought it to his mouth and helped him take slow sips. "Spike saved your… I mean, he put them in something safe. For the doctors. Just in case they want to try to, you know, put them back in."

            "Even if they could medically, in this case it would be impossible." He burrowed deeper into the couch, resting his cheek against the pillow. "Am I… is it… appalling?"

            _Only when I look at it. At you. Or remember it or picture it in my head, or the way Set leered, all happy with himself for tearing you apart.  _"No," she squeaked around the lump growing rapidly in her throat. 

            "As bad as that, then. Well. I rather expected as much." His hand went to his hair then lowered, wavering, to hesitate on the ridge of bone above his eyes. "Will I find… is it… open?"

            _Oh, god. _ _Oh Giles. _A noise in the hallway caught her attention. Spike leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. His expression was as serious as she'd ever seen it but that he was there, supporting her, gave her the courage to scoot closer to her Watcher and cover his hand in hers. "It's okay. See? Just eyelids. Whatever he did to you, he cleaned up afterwards." Trying for lightness, she said, "It's not so bad," but her voice broke on the last word. She couldn't bring herself to outright lie. _It's bad, Giles, it's so, so bad that I don't know how to fix it. I'd kick all sorts of ass if there was an ass to be kicked but there's not and I'm so out of my depth here and god, it's bad._

            He jerked his hand away and tucked it under his back. "I don't want your pity, Buffy," he said in his formal, 'I am Watcher, hear me roar all lectury and aloof' tone. 

            _He's gotta be wigging majorly to pull that attitude.  But maybe he needs me to be the strong one right now. I can do that, can't I?_ "You hungry?"

            "Did you not hear what I told you?" He kicked his feet out, adjusting the blanket and baring his toes in the process. They looked naked against the bright cotton and so _human_, she thought, so vulnerable.

With a quick tug, she had the blanket covering all of him. "I don't do pity," she told him. "But I can make toast and tea. That sound good?"

            He let out a measured breath. "Sounds ideal."

            Spike stopped her in the hallway. He drew her to sit on the stairs and when she did, he sat beside her, so close his thigh brushed hers. "What's the damage?"

            "It's damagey." Leaning back onto her elbows, she let her head rest on the step. "His eyes? Gone."

            "Well, yeah, but all that blood Set used to paint the mansion didn't come from his eyes. You cleaned him up, you should know."

            "His back," she said, burrowed her face against the side of her arm. _As long as I don't think about it, or remember… it's not bad. _"Set beat the crap out of him. His back's torn up."

            "Hospital then?"

            "No. He won't go. And he says they can't fix his eyes. Set sealed them up tight. I don't know what we should do with them… bury them, I guess." Waving her foot towards the dining room, she said, "How's His Gloweyness?" 

            Spike smirked. "He's reading the newspaper, if you can believe that. Said something about 'wanting to learn of the moral turpitude of these dishonorable times'. Poncey sort of god, if you ask me."

            She straightened, her eyes narrowing. "You called up a god, Spike. What were you thinking? I mean, didn't Willow's situation teach you anything? Can't you see how dangerous it is, having him here?" 

            "I did what needed doing. You ran out of here to die. Again. What the bloody hell did you expect I'd do, pick up a bit of embroidery?"

            "I didn't expect you to…"

            "I _did _what _needed _doing!" Lowering his voice, he said, "And you should be saying thank you for saving your sorry ass, not to mention your Watcher. The two of you were three seconds from being god-meat." His jaw tightened and he seized her by the arms. "Dead, Buffy. Permanently, outright dead. And you just left me here to twiddle my bloody thumbs!"

            "I wasn't exactly thinking straight, you know. Not like I filed a mission plan or anything. I… I just… but it doesn't matter now, okay? I'm fine." Her lips curved upwards as something powerful passed over his face. "You still love me, don't you."

            He wanted to move back, away from her and her question. She could see the need knot his muscles with tension and for a moment, wished she hadn't asked. _Too much, too soon, maybe? But no, he's all but admitted it anyway, it's so obvious. And he's not yelling at me or running, which is a plus. _"Spike?"

            "Slayer." He swung out his legs from beneath him and stretched, kicking off his boots.

_He's stalling. That's so… not Spike._ Turning his hands over in hers, she brought them to her mouth and brushed a kiss over each palm."Spike. I've gotta go get Giles some tea and then we've gotta have a talk with your new friend in there. We can't sit here and go back and forth like we do. No time for that, no energy either. But I want you to tell me this one thing. It's… important. Please." Following the line of his cheekbone with the tip of her index finger, she widened her eyes and let her need for him bleed out for him to see. _ Please, tell me the truth. This has been one of the worst days of my life. I've lost almost everything and more than anything I need something to balance it, I need something real and true and alive. I need you to love me back. _"Tell me the truth, please."

His face softened as she stroked over his brow. "Truth? Big question, that. Truth is, I've been a man in the dark for years whose only light came in a Slayer-shaped package. Truth is that I've wanted you and hated you, fought you and myself, grieved for you till I thought my soul'd grown back all on its own. I've sought you out all over the place, and would do it again a thousand times over if it meant having you for even a night." Striking his chest, he said, "That I won this soul for you, pet, that's no secret, but that I won it for myself as well… see, life without you is no life. Couldn't stand it. All those months in the Sanctuary, in the dark… couldn't stand it for the pain and hunger, yeah, but mostly…" 

Moistening her lips, she said, "Mostly?" 

            He threaded his fingers through her hair, holding her near him. "Mostly, I couldn't stand knowing you were a part of a world without me. I wanted you. Your touch, your scent, your… your bloody light. But mostly, I wanted to be in your world. And I couldn't let myself be, you see, couldn't, because you've had enough evilness in your life. But…" A thin groan rose from his throat. He touched his forehead to hers, his eyes closing reverently. "But I _wanted_ your world."

            Twining her hands around the back of his neck, she hugged him. "You didn't know this… maybe I didn't even know this, then, but Spike… stupid vamp guy, don't you know it now?"

            Inching back just enough to see her clearly, he asked, "Know?"

            "My world and your world… they're the same now." Smiling, she moved her fingers to caress his lower lip. "In fact, I'd say, if you're over being pissed at me for thinking you deserve a life and pulling you out of that crypt… I'd say, you pretty much are my world."

            He froze, stunned by her openness. At least she hoped that's what made him pull the deer-in-headlights act. _Too much, too soon. But one of us has to take a chance here or nothing will ever change._ "Spike…"  
 

            "Slayer." Shaking himself, he shot to his feet. "We've got work to do."

            "Yeah," she said as he fled to the dining room. "Looks like a lot more work than I thought."

            *****

            The sight of an ancient god sitting in her mother's chair at the dining room table reading the comics section of the Sunday Times sent Buffy into a fit of giggles. She collapsed onto the chair beside him, her whole body shaking with laughter. "You like Peanuts? Or, no, I bet you're a Gary Larson kinda guy."

            "I am not a guy." He used his hawk's beak like a mouth, opening it and closing it around the words. Buffy knew that was not physically possible but considering the manner of demons she'd seen, she found it more funny than strange. 

            "Guy, god, whatever." 

            Spike cleared his throat from across the table. "We got a game plan to work up. The funnies can wait, yeah? There's a couple of books here…"

            "Set needs killing, hard core." Folding the newspaper, Buffy shot Horus a side-long look. "And since _someone_ thinks it's better to wait till Set's all strong and manly again, I guess it's gonna be just that. Hard."

            "There is already a plan in place. We need no books." With a broad, golden-skinned hand, Horus swiped the paper back from Buffy and opened it.

            Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Um… you're all 'case-closed' there, but we're more clueless than not. Care to let us in?"

            "We won't be killing Set," Horus said.

            "Yes, we will." Buffy sucked in her lip, her gaze going automatically to the doorway through which she could catch a glimpse of the top of Giles' head. _Sleeping. I guess that rules out the tea I forgot to make him. The guy deserves a rest after… everything. "We will be killing Set very, very dead. Get me?"_

            He blinked at her, calm and unphased. "We will not be killing Set. The witch will."

            "Witch?" Spike closed his book and slid it to the center of the table. "Which witch?"

            "Set's witch. The one within whom he dwells. She who feeds him can also…"

            "Willow can kill him." Buffy's mind began to whirl with possibilities. "You're saying, there's enough of Willow left in there, that she can… sabotage him somehow?"

            "Yes." 

            They sat in silence for a minute, waiting for Horus to elaborate. He didn't seem to notice, only flipped through the newspaper to the Local section. _Obituaries. How apt._ "Willow's alive?"

            "After a fashion," Horus said distractedly. "Set keeps her consciousness within her body, feeds off her magicks. She's within, yet…"

            "He's keeping her alive. Sorta. And if we can contact her, get her to turn off the magick feeding she's doing, he'll die?"

            "No. He will die only when she does."

            "So, she's not dead." Buffy rubbed her temples, a headache brewing. "And when she dies, all the way, he'll die too. And that's the only way to kill him?"

            "Over eons, I've sought a way to secure his final death. This is all I've found."

            "We need to kill… to kill Willow. But Set keeps her alive. So… what then?"

            Spike cleared his throat. "We need to suppress Set long enough for Willow to take control of her body. She'll die. He'll die too. That about right?  

            "That is the plan," Horus said. 

            _We just need to kill Willow. Again. Great. Lovely. Wonderful. _Lowering her head to the table, she groaned. _Dammit. _

            "Slayer?"

            She looked up to find Horus watching her. "Yeah?"

            "Sleep now, child. Tomorrow, we will kill. Tonight you must rest."

            _Great plan. Thanks for that. Just the thing for counting sheep and lollipop dreams. _"'Kay," she said, and headed for the door. Spike waved his hand to her but she ignored him. In the living room, she pulled a blanket from the armchair and curled up in a ball.  _I don't wanta think. I don't wanta feel. Sleep is good. Tomorrow'll be Slayer time._

            .


	8. Chapter 8

Digging up the Bones

Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks go, as always, to Sass. She puts the Spike in… well, Spike.

*****

She woke to the sound of a moan, recognizable even through the veil of sleep as belonging to Giles. Rolling off the armchair, she kneltat the side of the couch before she'd even opened her eyes. "Hey. You're awake. I was waiting for you."

"That was made clearly evident by the sounds of snoring emanating from that side of the room." He curled his legs up against his chest, an awkward position for a man of his size but one that appeared to bring him comfort. "Is it nighttime? I… I can't seem to tell. It's… disorientating, to say the least."

            "Oh. I… I guess it would be." Untangling her blanket from around her legs, she spread it over his legs though she knew he wasn't cold. _I need to help him, somehow. If I can't make up for his eyes- and I can't, god, I can't fix it- at least I can help make it bearable. _"You should be able to figure it out though."

            "Yes, I'll just pull back the curtain and have a look, shall I?"

"No, do what you taught me, with the blindfold. Use your other senses. Listen to the sounds outside. What do you hear?"

            He cocked his head to the side. "Dogs barking. Birds, and a… a truck of some kind- oh, yes. The bin men collecting the garbage. Ah. It's morning, evidently."

            "Yay you," she said softly, keeping her tone upbeat even as a sour pang settled heavily in her stomach. "Good thing your ears still work."

            "You're quite right. I suppose it's fortunate that my title is not more… comprehensive."

            _Because if Set was going for the  symbolism… and he was, damn him. _"Yeah. Good thing." She bit down on her lower lip. "Does… do they… your eyes, I mean, do they… hurt?"

            "Everything hurts." Buffy flinched and Giles shrugged. "But no, the… sockets feel normal."

            "Good. That is good, right?"****

He inclined his head with a sigh. "Where is Horus?" 

            "In the kitchen, I guess. At least, he was there when I went to sleep. He was looking through your books for this spell… but you don't need to worry about that now. He's ancient, he's gotta know more about this stuff than you do." She tapped his eyelids with light prods, assessing the damage. "You look… not great, but okay. Much better than yesterday. It's like… like you're closing your eyes, taking a rest."

            "Some rest." He scowled and ducked away from her touch. "If only that were the case."

            "Sorry," she said, dropping her hand. "I'm just… sorry."

            "It's not your fault." 

            "But if we hadn't had that fight… if I'd backed off a little, left you alone, you wouldn't have left and Set wouldn't have hurt you."

            "No, you mustn't blame yourself." Shifting onto his side, he lay quietly, so still that Buffy wondered if he'd fallen back asleep. She fingered the hem of his blanket, picking at the ridges of thread with her fingernails. He must have felt her anxiety; he cleared his throat and found her hand. "It's alright, Buffy. Don't fret so. I'm not dead, after all."

            _He doesn't get it yet, how much things are gonna change for him. He doesn't get it, but I do. _"You're not dead. And that's a major good. But Giles…"

            "No, listen to me, for once in your life. It's not right for you to feel at fault. We had an quarrel but it was a necessary one, I think. We both said things which we…" He snapped his mouth shut.****

_He can't say he didn't mean all the things he told me. And… neither can I. Stuff like that doesn't go away just because you wish it would. _"It's okay," she said, touching the smooth onyx  of his ring. "I get it. I do."

At that, he smiled. "Well then, perhaps you can explain it to me. I'm feeling rather… lost, at the moment."

Making a face, she said, "I didn't mean that I understood _everything._ Not exactly philosophy-girl here. But I get that bad stuff has happened. Really bad, and you and I… we've got things between us to work out, big things. But it doesn't matter right now." 

"Because of Set."

"Because there are other big things too." Raising her head, she caught a glimpse of Spike in the hallway. She nodded to him, beckoning him into the room. "Good big things that balance out the bad big things. I…" _God, I so suck at this. Why can't I tell him? _"I… you can't leave me, Giles." _I can't do this alone._

Giles flinched, startling her. "I'm here, aren't I? For all the good it will do you."

"What? No, I didn't mean… I only wanted you to know…"

"I understand you perfectly well. As you said, my ears still work." He turned away from her, his body stiff. "Perhaps you should be training."

"But Giles…" _And now, he gets it. Life's totally different. _Her mouth felt like old paper, dry and dusty. _Could be from my foot being stuck inside. _"But I didn't…"

            "Go. I… I don't want you here."

            "But Giles, you don't understand. That wasn't what I meant." Hands landed on her shoulders, lifting her to her feet. Spike, grim-faced, urged her towards the door. 

            "I understand," Giles repeated. He touched his eyelids roughly with a sound between a groan and a growl. "Oh, do I ever understand."

            "Giles…"

            "Buffy, leave him to it." Spike's hands held her steady. "C'mon, pet."

She let him lead her out, her twisting emotions confusing her so much that she didn't question him as he drew her up the staircase and into her bedroom. 

Once he'd shut the door, she snapped out of her daze and glared at him. "You don't have to treat me like that."

            Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned back against the wall. "And how would that be?"

            "Like… like… I need help. 'Cause I don't. I'm just…" A swift shadow of anger passed over her face. "He wouldn't listen! I didn't mean it like that. Like he's useless now, it's not like that. But he wouldn't even let me explain!"

            "It's not like he's in his right mind. Imagine how you'd be if some hellgod came by and took away your power. You think you'd wake up the next morning all peppy?"

            "True. Okay, yeah. But…" Sighing, she sank onto the edge of her bed. "I should have explained it to him better. This always happens with Giles and me. We're not great at the talking part of things. And I tried, and I kept messing it up."

            "And you wondered why I got you out of there?" 

            "You could have just said… well, okay. Thanks." Flashing him a half-smile, she patted the mattress beside her. "Sit with me?"

            To her great surprise, he did. The mattress folded a little under their combined weights, turning what had been a distance of several inches between them into his thigh flush against hers. Surprise changed to shock when he smirked at her rather than pull away. "Nice bed," he said, bouncing a little. "Nice pig, too."

            "He's an old friend." Buffy fell back, sprawling sideways across the mattress. She tucked Mr. Gordo against her chest for a brief hug then tossed him away. "He used to be comforting."

            "Guess you've outgrown him," Spike said, lying on his side. He propped his head up on his hand. "Happens to the best of us."

            She tipped her head all the way back, studying the window upside-down. Sunlight beat at the white curtain; it glowed as if bursting with liquid, like white fruit, like colorless lava steam. Spike didn't seem to notice but Buffy saw how it illuminated the planes of his face and grew nervous, a tickling anxiety in her stomach that she couldn't ignore. 

"I've outgrown a lot of things," she told him, and tugged him over her body to the other, darker side of the bed. "More things than are left to grow into, I think."

            "Not me." He propped himself over her on his elbows, his eyes pounding into hers with their intensity. "It's a big world, Slayer, full of more things than you can imagine. Me, I've got loads of growing to do yet. Don't know why anyone would want to stop."

            "Good thing you're immortal. You sound like you want to eat up the whole world."

            "Not the whole world." His gaze fell to her collar, to the line of skin pale against the red neckline of her shirt. The tip of his tongue touched his upper lip, a delicate lick placed on the spot Buffy had always loved to suck, before. _Not the whole world._

             "Why did you bring me up here?" Her fingers moved to his hair as if by their own volition. It wasn't that she didn't want to touch him but the need for him she carried triggered within her a recklessness- a trait she'd learned to fear. _Go slowly. Don't freak him out. _Tangling his curls through her fingers, she urged him closer, and closer still, until she could see herself reflected in the sheen of his eyes. "Why?" she asked again.

            "You needed a change of scenery." He dipped his head down to brush his lips over the crown of her forehead, inhaling in scent of her hair. "A diversion. Won't do to have you go up against Set all tense and distracted."

            Stroking over his head, she laced her fingers behind his neck. "So, this is, what? A public service?"

"Hardly," he said, snorting.

She laughed at the distinctive sound, then shivered as his hand stroked over her hair and down further to her shoulder. Her collarbone seemed to fascinate him; with ardent fingers he explored but wasn't satisfied. Bending low, he tasted her at the juncture of her neck. "Mmmh," he rumbled. "Buffy taste."

_Maybe I should stop him. Maybe this is a bad time to be fooling around with my… whatever he is, with blind Giles downstairs alone near a weirdo god. Maybe I should be training or… or researching, or…but oh god, this feels amazing. _ She tucked her arms around him, binding him against her with all her strength, needing to feel fully the weight of his body against hers. _He's here. He's real. He's not locked away in the crypt and he's not all crazy and he doesn't hate me, he's just… here. Real. Mine. _

"What do you want, Slayer?" He licked her chin delicately with the tip of his tongue, a quick, cat-like lap. "Tell me what you want."

"You know what I want?" _Everything. _Memories flashed through her mind, snapshots of scenes they'd acted out again and again. Violent, hard hands and harsh words… she could hear herself, hear the words she'd told him so many times before. _Evil, soulless thing. Not a man. Nothing. _She burned inside at the memory of his eyes, the kicked-puppy look he'd given her each time she'd raised his hopes only to slam him down again. And her own hurts, her own mistrusts, all of it flooded back, a kaleidoscope of images and remarks, all nasty and titillating and shaming. _I always wondered what it would be like to fuck a Slayer. That's what he was going to say to me before I shut him up. But this… this is different. A new start. A new life._

"I want to be kind to you." She grasped his face between her palms and kissed him with all the tenderness in her heart. "I want us to be kind to each other."

He raised an eyebrow. "That simple, is it."

"That simple. We'll make it be that simple." She kissed him again then pulled back a little, noticing that he'd stiffened. "Okay?"

            "Slayer…" He sighed. "How can I tell you no? How can I?"

            "That's not a question, is it." Resting against the mattress, she watched emotion after emotion roll over his face. "Spike… don't think so much."

            "Funny, you telling me that." He kept his face black but couldn't conceal his turmoil, not from Buffy, who had seen him wear a hundred different expressions, a thousand different feelings. To Buffy, he was laid bare, naked and exposed, and as she took in his apprehension and confusion, she knew, _knew_, that this was it for them. The end of all the mistrust. _Simplicity. _That was what he had wanted. She'd found it, the thing that would make him forgive her. _So different from who he was but then, so am I. _

"It's all changed," he said, reading her easily as ever. "All different, this time around."

            "That's not a bad thing, you know. Before… lots of bad."

            "No. It's not. But…. but."  
  


            "Don't give me but face." Reaching up a hand, she smoothed the line that formed between his eyes. "Don't. Just don't. Just be with me."

            Softening, he caressed her cheek. "That simple?"

            "Like I said. We'll make it be."  

            *****

            He was tender with her. What surprised her about that was her utter lack of surprise. _This is the way it always could have been if I'd let it be. This is love._ She skimmed her hands up his chest, drawing his shirt off, licking the skin as she bared it. Even his taste was changed, or maybe it was only that she'd never truly allowed herself to take him in before. _Let's hear it for changes,_ she thought, and licked his chest again.

            When her mouth found his nipple, Spike shivered and drew upwards, catching her lips in a kiss that seemed endless. Her shirt melted off her shoulders as he unbuttoned it; she pressed her thigh against the bulge that pulsed inside his jeans and wondered at his patience. 

            His hands lingered on her hips, thumbs hooked inside her slacks. "You're beautiful, you know," he told her, his open mouth moist on hers. "You're all I ever thought of, the whole year in that crypt."

            "Shh." She closed her eyes. "Don't talk. I don't want to think about that. I don't want…" _I don't want to think. Just let me be here without words or worries, without hurt, even for only an hour, for only a minute. _"Just love me," she whispered, shucking her pants and slipping closer.  The bone of her hip touched his and she met his gaze, searching him for herself. _Love me._

            "Easiest thing ever," he said, and brought his mouth to cover hers once more. 

            *****

            There was no pressure of  time, nothing compelling them to rush. She thought of nothing, only _savored. _Reality became his skin against hers, slick and shimmering in the half-light, and his gasps, panting in rhythm with her own. She recognized his weight as it pushed into her and moved her to bliss with the purity of his focus. The knowledge that he knew nothing beyond her in that moment kindled an aching in her chest. Holding him closer still, she poured into her kisses and the tender touches of her hands all the passion he sparked within her.

            And when he filled her with a hoarse groan, she whispered his name and cried as she came. 

            *****

            "Buffy? You think we should check on Rupert and his godliness down there?" 

            She felt the question rumble through his chest beneath her cheek and tipped her chin against his breastbone. "Probably," she said, making no move to rise. Snuggling deeper into his chest, she pulled the sheet up and tucked it around their bodies. "Yep, definitely probably."

            "Don't sound so anxious, pet." He wound a lock of her hair around his fingers and held it up, studying the contrast of gold on white. "How're you holding up?"

            "Better now. This was… I needed this. Something good." Stroking the ridge of his collarbone, she sighed. "But now… it's gonna be hard. All of it. I… wait, do you smell that?" She picked her head up, sniffing, then leapt to her feet, knocking the blankets aside. "Something's burning."

            "Burning? Yeah, there's something… smoke." He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "You think your Watcher decided to cook himself up a spot of breakfast?"

            "I don't know," Buffy said, jamming her arms into her sweater and reaching for her pants. "Stupid, so stupid, we just left him down there with that… that god, all alone, all… god, all blind."

            "Don't get all freaked out  just yet. You don't know what it is- Horus could've been making… I dunno, toast or what-not."

            "Right. 'Cause gods do that all the time." Flinging open the door, she rushed to the stairs, not waiting for Spike but he was at her heels in a second, the bed sheet wrapped around his waist. "You feel that?" she asked him, touching the wall at the top of the steps. "It's hot."

He placed his palm flat beside hers. "Yeah? So?" 

            "Guess you never had fire safety day at your grade school. That means badness, generally.  But I don't hear anything." She peered down the steps then shrugged and went down. _Something is very weird here. _"Giles?"

            "I'm in here, Buffy," he called, and she leaped over the last few steps to find him in the living room. "Is something the matter?"

            "Giles…" Buffy breathed, gripping the doorway with two hands. "Oh god."

            He sat up straight on the couch, a large book in his lap, Buffy noticed, but didn't register it as she took in with horror the fire that covered him like a burning aura. "Giles, you… are you…"

            "Reading? I thought I might try to feel the letters. The print in this tome was engraved with fire, leaving deep impressions." He held up the volume. "There could be something in here to lend clues to our…"

            "Giles!" Breaking out of her shock, she went to him. _This is magick. It has to be. _"You don't… doesn't that… hurt?"

            His forehead knit in confusion. "Hurt? No, I told you before, my eyes…"

              "The fire that is all over you? Ring any bells?" Grabbing the blanket from beside him, she tossed it over his head, patting down the flames despite his muffled protests. "Set's played a little prank."

            "Yes, it would seem he has," Horus said from the back of the room. 

Buffy jumped back. "You might've said something to him. Or, you know, called me downstairs."

"I was on fire?" Giles said, touching his hair tentatively. "There was no sensation, no smell."

Spike crouched beside him. "There was upstairs, mate. Smelled like Buffy's cooking."

"Another component of the spell," Horus explained. "Set attempts to unnerve you all."

"I must say, he's succeeded," Giles said and stood. "I feel… dirty."

"Yeah? Well I feel fighty. Um, violent. Um…" She met Spike's amused glance and rolled her eyes. "I'm ready to go get this guy."

"It is not the proper time tonight…"

"You know what? I'm done waiting. We need to do this. . . so, what? We've gotta get a spell to suppress Set for… how long?" _How long will it take for Willow to die?_

Clearing his throat, Giles said, "Not long. A minute, maybe two. She's been… incarcerated within his magicks for far too long."

Buffy tossed her hair back with both hands, taking a deep breath. "So then, where do we go to get this spell? You've got, like, a zillion books upstairs, Giles. Any of them helpful?"

            "Perhaps." He felt for the arm of the couch and levered himself to his feet. "If Spike would assist me, I could…"

            "Right, we'll get to that then." Spike said, taking a step nearer the Watcher. For a moment, Buffy thought Spike meant for Giles to take hold of his arm and she nearly intervened until Spike sent her a nod. _He knows not to treat Giles like… like he's **less.**_ "

            "First… a shower." Giles pinched the front of his shirt between his fingers. "As I am, Set could be defeated by scent alone."

            "Watcher-sweat. Weapon of choice of Slayers everywhere," Buffy said, then winced. "Sorry. That was bad."

            "Yes it was," Horus said, "As is this impetuousness of yours. Foolish child. I'd expected better from a hero of your lineage."  
  


            "She does better than you could ever know," Giles said, his voice low.

            Horus shrugged his enormous shoulders. "Well for a mortal, perhaps, but for a hero?"

            "She's not an archetype, you bloody…" Tensing his jaw, Giles took a second, making Buffy recall his earlier words. _Don't piss off the god. _"She's not an archetype. She's a girl. And she's magnificent." 

            Tears stung the backs of Buffy's eyes. _He doesn't hate me. _"Let's get to work," she said in a hoarse voice. Brushing Giles' fingers with her own, she said, "Go have your shower. Spike and I will be here. Afterwards, he'll give you whatever help you need."  
  


            Giles hesitated. "Do be mindful to be… careful. With…" He tilted his head towards Horus.

            "I getcha," she said, taking in the god's hulking presence as he studied her mother's picture where it hung on the far wall. "I won't turn my back on him."

*****

            "Horus has another spell he wants me to help him out with," Buffy said, settling onto the step beside Spike after a glare towards Horus, who was camped out on the living room floor, 'resting his eyes', or so he said. "Sounds kinda weird. Something about a transfer of energies… to make me stronger, more effective against Set."

            "You're doing it?"  
  


            "Yeah." She shrugged. "I know, not magic-girl here, but I better take all the strength I can get. This other spell… will it be hard to find?" 

            "Not too," Spike said, moving his legs to the side to make room for hers. "Sounds straightforward enough."

            "Good." She leaned slightly into him, resting her arms against the stair above. "I'm glad something is." With a nudge, she added, "Something besides you."

            "Me?"  
  


            "Well, now, anyways. Now that you're over your post-soul angsties." 

            He scowled. "Right. Because all this, it's that trivial."

            "No, not trivial. You've got a good reason to be freaking. Just… glad you're over it. That's all." Scooting closer, she said, "I like happy Spike better."   

He slunk down a step, moving away from her touch. "Think you've got it all worked out, eh? Think you know the way I feel, you having played Angel's confidant for a handful of years. Well, pet, you couldn't be more wrong. This tape that's running through my head on a 'repeat-till-catatonic' reel? Not a single picture there you've seen before."

            "Oh, god, Spike. Listen to yourself." Foolish as it felt to argue the point, she glared at him. "I've been around. I've seen stuff. And Angel did tell me about his vamp life."

"I'll bet Angel didn't tell you 'bout the children."

            Slamming shut her eyes, she inhaled sharply. "Don't."

            "Wussing out? I thought you wanted to know what drove me into that Sanctuary instead of back to your oh-so-welcoming arms."

            "Fine," she said, but she did not open her eyes.

            "You think they would have screamed, those kids. And well, they did. At first. Screamed for their mummies and daddies, screamed for their teachers, their friends… even their pets, for all the good that would do them. As if Fluffy the Power Kitten would run in and save the day. They screamed a lot- at first. But only at first. After a day or two with Dru and I, they quieted. And I mean, _quiet. _Not a whimper, not a moan. Not a tear. Grown men will cry for days, weeks even, you keep them alive that long. Women are harder eggs to crack but when they crack, they crumble away to dust. That's what made kids so special, made them such treats. Special occasion food only, of course- nothing like a few missing babies to bring a town out in force for an old-fashioned demon hunt- but then, Dru declared every other day a holiday."

            "That's enough," she whispered. Her fingernails bit into the skin of her palm. 

            "That's what they said, too. The adults. 'No more!' 'Stop!' But not the children. Silent as ghosts, they were, and still. Living dolls. Didn't even blink, after enough days at Drusilla's breast. Didn't even---"

Buffy lurched forward, grabbing him by the forearms. "I said, enough!"  

            He cocked his head, his eyes gleaming but unreadable. "Was I right, pet?"

            "What? Right?"

            "About Angel. He didn't tell you all this."

            "No." Letting him go, she sank back. "He wouldn't have. Never."

            "Well, then. There you have it. Spike's Evil Deeds, 101." His lips tightened as he watched her wince. "Feel closer now, pet? That enough bonding for you? Feel like you know me?"

            "That wasn't you." She leaned forward and took his hands. "It wasn't you, Spike. I know that. I _believe _that. And the sooner you do too, the sooner you'll feel like…"

            "Like myself again?" Smiling bitterly, he shook his head. "I don't think so. Whoever 'myself' is not, it's someone new. Not William. Not Spike the Vampire. Whoever I am now, I…" He dropped his eyes from her intense gaze. "I don't know."

            She squeezed his fingers, not knowing what to say. In the quiet of the moment, they could hear only the household sounds: the thrum of the shower running upstairs, the buzz of the refrigerator, the relentless bark of the neighbor's dog. In the living room, Horus snored, his beak clicking on every exhale. 

Together they studied their entangled hands. _Whatever else is true, at least we know **this**,_ Buffy thought, stroking a thumb over his knuckle. _We're tangled together because we want to be. Because we need to be. And the rest… the rest is silence. Except…_

Bending low, she touched her cheek to the back of his hand. It felt cool against her flushed skin and when he didn't move away, she kissed his fingers before straightening. "I need to tell you something. And I need for you to listen because it's not the kind of thing I can repeat."

Without waiting for his response, she pressed on. "I don't know who I was when I said that stuff to you. All the stuff, last year. And how I treated you… I don't know who I was. Not the person I want to be; not the person I was before I died or the person I am now, that's for sure. Because you didn't deserve it. I mean, you did, sort of, but not… not like that.

            You were a person, a long, long time ago, and then something bad happened. It wasn't your fault. You were turned into a victim, just like all those people I try to save every night on patrol. A vamp killed you, murdered you. And that's sad, really sad. People must have grieved for you. You must've had a funeral, with flowers, and crying family and friends and the whole works, because you were a human being and that's what you deserved.

            But then you got a demon inside you, you became a demon, and you did terrible things. That was what I saw, even with all the kindnesses you gave me… the demon was who I needed to see because… because how could I believe you? How could I let myself? And I'm not saying I was totally in the wrong, either. You weren't good. But there was something in you, something _larger_ that made you fight back against the demon inside long enough to kill it. Long enough to get your soul back." She took in a sharp, gasping breath. "And that is… that's amazing."

            Clearing his throat with a rumble that told her he was far from unaffected by her words, he said, "You know what it was, pet. What it was, so large inside me."

            "Love." She bobbed her head, feeling more that a little stupid. _But I have to finish this. He has to know_. "I get it. Kinda hard not to, now. But back then, I didn't want to believe you. I didn't want the… the responsibility. Because if I believed you loved me, really loved me, then I couldn't see you as a thing. I would have had to… to behave better, to not do what I did to you, and god, Spike, I needed to do it. I needed to beat bloody something evil because I couldn't do it to myself. I needed _a way out_." 

Swallowing hard, she continued. "You felt love, and you used it to make a miracle happen. I… I  _felt _it, I did, and I used it to keep myself going. Selfish, huh? I knew you'd never leave. I knew you'd always forgive me. So I used you. I even used the way you made me feel- love, maybe, or something close to it… I used that to punish myself because, you know, if I felt for a soulless demon, didn't that just prove me right, that I was wrong and bad and dirty?"

            "No. It didn't prove anything so bad as that about you. Slayer. You're not the one at fault."

            "Shut up and let me get through this, okay?" Letting him go, she pushed her hair back, then took his hands again, avoiding his eyes. She turned them over and traced the lines of his palms. "Like I was saying, it was wrong. Doing that to you… it leaves off the whole part where you used to be a man with people who loved you, that you were victimized, murdered. It wasn't fair, what happened to you, and I made it worse.

            Flipping his hands over, he seized her wrists, his face intense. "You made it _bearable_." 

            "Anya… she used to change her hair all the time, remember? One week it'd be straight, the next, curly, and the color…. I used to laugh at her about it. Not to her face. But still. I'd laugh because it was yet another weird thing from freaky-weird Anya, like bunny phobia and her money fetish. I never understood her, and I never knew why. Then it hit me, after her lack-of-wedding… she couldn't see herself. And that's all she wanted to do. She used everything in her life like a big mirror - Xander, the shop, even the vengeance stuff- and it was like, she thought if she could just look hard enough, she'd see herself there, find herself." 

Shifting, she finally met his gaze. "That's what I was doing with you last year, Spike. I didn't love you, not then. Not really. But something… something in you let me see little flashes of the Buffy-Who-_Was_. That's the love you gave me. That's what your love did. You gave me a mirror to myself and I followed it." Giving him a tiny smile, she said, "I followed it home. And here I am."

             "Buffy…" He broke off and she watched as his face moved through a dozen different expressions._ He's like a human kaleidoscope_. Finally settling on a puzzled frown, he said, "I don't know what to say to that. Don't know if there's anything I _can_ say."

            "Wow. Rendering the Big Bad silent. Must be one of the lesser-known Slayer powers."

            He stared at her with glassy eyes. "You made me love you. That's a power."

            "That's a _gift_," she corrected, turning her face up towards his. "My gift. I've got the whole First Slayer mojo-talk to prove it."

            "Good on you." Using both hands, he tucked her hair behind her ears and lingered there, stroking the softness with the backs of his fingers. "Don't know what my gift is and I don't have a First to go to ask for it. Reckon you'll have to do."

            "I can tell you." She covered his hands with hers and drew them down. Pressing them against her heart, she smiled. "Feel."

            "Your heartbeat?"  
  


            "My _life._ That's your gift. You gave it back to me, twice. The first time, I didn't thank you very well. And the second… that's right now." Licking her lips, she squeezed his hands. "I'll do better this time."

            "So will I," he said, and bent his head to hers. Her breath was moist on his mouth. Savoring the scent of her, the feel of the air warm from her body, he lingered there, a whisper from a kiss. 

            Above their heads, they heard Giles turn off the shower. "Time to go," Spike said against her mouth. You ready for this?"

            "Never." _Never ready to bury my friends_. "But, yeah. More than I was before. More than I'd be without you. And at least it's better this time. For Willow, I mean. Better than where she was. But…"

            "But?"

            "But hard, too. Because…"

            "Hard not knowing how much of what happened last year to lay on Willow's head and how much to blame on Set."

            _When you say it like that… _"Hard not to know. And also, hard knowing we'll never know."

            "Good part of that equation, Buffy, is that it leaves you free to believe whatever you like. No point in fretting over Willow's maybe-misdeeds if it makes you ache. Might as well blame the god you've already taken vengeance on."

            "It's easy to say that." 

            "Yeah, true. Very pat, for a bloke who's got the corner on rumination and self-torment." He touched her hair and whispered, "That said, someday, I reckon it might be true for us both. We've got our share of insanity to deal with but someday…"

            "Someday, we'll be okay." Wrinkling her nose, she stood and tugged him up with her. "That's all you've got? I mean, not to be mean or anything, but you'd think a guy who's been around a few centuries might come up with something a bit more profound."

            He scowled at her. "Profound?"

Smiling, she ran her hands up his arms and locked them behind his neck. "Yeah, profound. With lots of big words and commas. And maybe, maybe it would rhyme." 

            With a groan, he lowered his forehead to rest against hers. "Now I know you're having me on."

            "Or you could, I dunno, sing it. A capella, maybe." She brushed her nose against his and widened her eyes innocently. "Or, ooh! We could bring Angel in and you guys could do rounds!"

            "Buffy," he growled, digging his fingers through her hair. He held her head in both hands, her lips nearly touching his. "You're asking for punishment here, you know that."

            Her eyes sparkled. Opening her mouth, she tasted his lips with the tip of her tongue, grinning when she felt him quiver. "So if I mentioned something about, say, starting a barbershop quartet… punishment might be all cometh then, huh?"

            Eagerness overcame sense and he lunged for her mouth, claiming it with such force, they fell backward onto the steps but did not break apart. Her hands found the edge of his tee-shirt and moved under it, exploring upwards over his chest as if for the first time. _And it is, kind of. He's a new person. Not William, not Spike, just…_

            From the top of the stairs, Buffy heard Giles cough loudly. _And back comes reality. _Drawing away from Spike, she said, "We've gotta go. Work time."

            "I know," he replied, but pulled her back anyway and found her mouth with his and kissed her hard. "But you're not alone, Slayer. Hold onto that."

            She stood and smiled down at him. "No," she said, and held out her hands. "I'll just hold onto you instead."

*****

            The dining room chair hurt his back. The rungs bit between the nodges of his spine and try as he might, Giles could not get comfortable. He sat, regardless.

            "Cool!" He heard Buffy say, her voice excited in a way it hadn't been for far too long. "This spell stuff's not too bad."

            _I could have told you that. Taught you that. _Stiffening, he berated himself for his pettiness. _Yes, let's do find the worst time for a fit of self-pity. Stellar job, Rupert. _He reacted for his glass by reflex before remembering he had nothing to drink. _And that is for the best, old man. _As Buffy's shrill laugh poured from the entryway, he winced. _Or perhaps not. _

            The chair besides his was pulled out, its legs screeching across the floor. "Rupert," Spike greeted him, and Giles felt something smooth and cool press into his hand. "Thirsty, mate?"

            "Spike," Giles said, as if the single word could convey both reluctance and gratitude. He tossed the whisky down in a single gulp and as Buffy laughed again, tipped the rim back, anxious for every drop. 

            Spike took the glass. After a long, silent span, he asked, "You listening to them?"

            "Hard to help it." Grudgingly, he added, "Buffy's come so far. I never thought to see the day she'd be grounded enough to cast spells."

            Spike paused. Giles could almost hear him thinking. Then the vampire snorted with disdain. "No thanks to His Birdliness in there."

            "What do you mean? I can hear them. He's teaching her well."

            "Right. But she's miserable."

            "Yes, I could hear that in the peels of laughter. Misery's gone soft over the years, apparently."

             Rocking the chair legs, Spike said, "He's teaching her to kill her best friend but to him, Willow's a means to an ends, that's all. The bugger's got no feelings for you puny human types."

            Giles clenches his fists. "She deserves a little care. If this must be done, it must be done with dignity, respect for who Willow was, and for the sacrifice Buffy is about to perform. She's no bloody _means_, neither of them are. If I could…" His shoulders slumped.

            "If you could use that big head of yours to remember some of the incantations, Buffy wouldn't need Horus. Too bad there's no one else can speak ancient Sumerian."

            "You know quite well that I can speak Sumerian. And I do remember the incants, and the ritual involved." He rose slowly, waving his hands for balance. "I should offer my experience. If Buffy chooses not to take it… if she doesn't think I'm well enough, or capable any longer of being of use to her…" 

            "She'll tell you. Our bird's not one to hold her tongue. And Horus just stepped out for a breather, so she's alone." Spike offered his arms and with a slight glower, Giles accepted. "When this is over, you and I need to have a talk."

            They stumble forward, adjusting to walking in sync. "When this is over, I suspect we'll have many." 

            "Giles!" Buffy jumped up from her seat on the floor. He didn't believe she'd been tense until he heard the change in her voice as she went to him, spilling… something, many small things from her lap to clatter on the floor. _Runic stones, I'd wager_.  "You're up! I thought you were resting again. Are you… I mean, does it hurt?"

            "You've no idea," he told her, managing a wry smile. "I'm told there's Sumerian to be chanted. Would you like a hand?"

            She did not reply. The silence was… fidgety, Giles thought. _She thinks I'm useless now. If ever she needed me, that time is over_. "I've still got the use of my mouth, you know, as well as my brain."

            "And if something needs reading, I'm mostly just twiddling my thumbs here," Spike added.

            _What is she doing? _Giles wished he could see her face. Not long ago, he could read her every expression but now it was so easy for her to hide from him, simply by staying quiet. "Buffy?"

            Soft hands covered his, drawing him forward and down to his knees. "See, here?" Buffy placed his fingers in the edge of the circle. "Does the chalk feel crushed enough? 'Cause I mushed and mashed it like Horus said but I wasn't sure I did it right and he couldn't tell me."

            A weight lifted from his chest, easing him. He felt the corners of his mouth twitch up. "It's a little on the grainy side but it should do. Well done, Buffy."

            She squeezed his fingers. "Buffy can mash. Yay Buffy."

            "It might seem a small thing but these magicks call for careful balancing of all the elements."

            "Yeah, you know, Horus was telling me about that."

            "He must be very… helpful. Very knowledgeable."

"Big time. He spent forever telling me how the smallest mistake could throw the whole thing off and how if we weren't really, really careful, all the badness could get even worse. We have to be so, so careful, Giles."

            "I could…" _Get out of your way. That's what your telling me, isn't it?_

Continuing as if he hadn't spoken, Buffy said, "That's why I'm so glad you're up. I never thought I'd miss your lectures but gotta say, Horus? Not big on the small words. Not that you ever were but at least you spoke British, not whatever freaky version of English _he_ speaks." Running her hands up to his wrists, she held him firmly. "Plus, I trust you. You're my… you're Giles." She shook him once. "You're Giles."

            "I… I am, yes." Fumbling only a little, he touched her shoulder. _I am a foolish man. That you are still capable of surprising me with your better nature, after all this time…_ "Spike tells me there's Sumerian to be translated."

            "Spike's very… helpful, that way." 

There was something in her voice that made him smile. _She's still capable of teasing him, so she can't be too bad off. _ 

            Firm hands landed on his shoulders and tugged him upwards. "Books are this way, Rupert," Spike said, the glare he must have worn obvious in his voice.

            "Have fun, Spikey!" Buffy said brightly.

            "Good god," Giles said, letting Spike led him to the table. "Don't ever call him that within my hearing again."

            "But if you could see the way it makes his ears twitch…" He heard a slapping sound, skin on skin. _She's slapping her forehead, kicking herself for her gaffe. _"Oh, Giles, I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean…"

            He laughed, turning towards her. "I'm sure it's quite a sight," he said, giving her an understanding smile. "Now, back to work, all."      


End file.
